We'll Always Have Paris
by Evilution
Summary: Sequel to The Simple Life. It’s only the beginning for Paris as her adventures in OVW begin. Randy has forgiven her for that fateful night with Paul, but can she forgive herself? New men, new drama, but The Legend Killer won't give up without a fight.
1. A Look Back

Chapter 1 – A Look Back

By Evilution

**Summary:** Sequel to The Simple Life. It's only the beginning for Paris as her adventures in OVW begin. Randy has forgiven her for that fateful night with Paul, but can she forgive herself? There may be a new man in her life, but The Legend Killer isn't about to give up without a fight!

**Rating:** R for sex and language.

**Pairings:** Edge/Paris/Randy, Lita/Batista, Trish/Jericho, Tammy/Jeff, Amanda/Matt, Stacy/Christian, Jackie/Charlie, Stephanie/HBK, Cena?

**Timeline:** begins October 2003

**Disclaimer:** I only own Paris, Amanda, Tammy, and Katie. Everyone else belongs to the WWE or themselves. Paris' parents are based on George Clooney and Julia Roberts' characters in the Oceans Eleven movies. Don't sue cuz I'm broke, especially after buying this computer. If you're reading this story for the first time, you may want to read The Simple Life, just so you know what's going on.

Paris stared out of the airplane as they headed south toward Louisville, Kentucky and watched the sky gradually transform from a dismal gray to a soft blue, the fluffy white clouds swirling below them. She closed her eyes, trying to make sense out of what had happened only hours earlier at the hotel, and more importantly, what had happened in the last 24 hours that had led to the scene in the lobby. The faces flashed in front of her eyes, a whirlwind of confusion—Randy, Paul, Dave, Amy, Sarah, Amanda, Shane, Danny—most of them judging her, some mocking her, others full of empathy and hope.

Four weeks ago, Paris was living a semi-normal existence in her hometown of Las Vegas. The daughter of fabulously wealthy casino owner, Danny Ocean, Paris' days were spent shopping and socializing, her nights partying and excess in every sense of the word. But four weeks ago, everything had changed. Four weeks ago, Danny had dropped the bombshell. Four weeks ago, Danny had turned Paris' life completely upside down.

Danny had basically told Paris that he and her mother, Tess, were fed up with footing the bill for her extravagant yet shiftless lifestyle. They promptly cancelled Paris' tuition at UNLV, where she had just started her junior year, called up their old friend, WWE owner, Vince McMahon, and sent Paris packing. The whole method to their madness was to teach Paris a lesson about responsibility and to show her how difficult, unrewarding, and immoral a life in the entertainment business could be. As the thought of traveling with the WWE as a travel coordinator began to sink in, Paris truly believed that she had died and gone to hell—that is, until she found out that her best friend, Amanda Jones, would be going with her. The two friends were determined to make their trip to the WWE an adventure to remember.

When they arrived in the WWE, Paris and Amanda were shocked to learn that they were going to be split up since the WWE was only hiring one coordinator on RAW. It was Amanda who volunteered to be on the RAW ring crew, rather than coordinating on SmackDown, and thus, avoided her and Paris being split up. However, all the maneuvering had been in vain because Amanda ended up making friends with a girl on the ring crew named Sarah, who decided that she didn't like Paris for whatever reasons and made it her mission in life to spread vicious rumors and nasty gossip about the WWE's newest travel coordinator. It had only been during the past week, when Paris found out that she was leaving, that she and Amanda began talking again.

Nevertheless, it wasn't as if Paris had time to dwell on her problems with Amanda. During her first week, she learned all the ins and outs of the locker room by working for Y2J, Chris Jericho, and she became best friends with the WWE's most extreme diva, Amy Dumas, or Lita as she was better known to fans. Not only that, but she attracted the attention of the WWE's hottest young superstar, Randy Orton, and the company's most powerful front man, Paul Levesque, who was better known as The Game—Triple H.

Paris' history with the group known as Evolution was long and storied even though she had only known them for a month. On her first night, Paul had tried to intimidate her, to let her know who ran the locker room. But Paris wasn't impressed…and she let Evolution know it. After Paul tried to have her fired, Paris decided that it was probably in her best interests to swallow her pride and apologize rather than remain on the bad side of the WWE's most elite group. In the process, a relationship developed not only between Paris and the Legend Killer, Randy Orton, but also between the Queen of Xtreme, Amy Dumas, and the Monster of Evolution, Dave Batista. Of course, Amy's relationship with Dave ended her long-standing yet tumultuous romance with the Sensei of Mattitude, Matt Hardy Version 1.0, who blamed Paris for Amy's new-found independence and her association with Evolution. In his jealousy and bitterness, Matt instigated a tryst between Paris and Mr. Monday Night, Rob Van Dam, that left Paris completely humiliated and questioning whether she belonged in the WWE or not. Thankfully, nothing really became of her interlude with Rob, except for a lot of gossip brought about by none other than Sarah and a small scuffle in the locker room between Randy and Rob.

Paris' relationship with Randy was far more complicated than anything that could have gone down between her and Rob. On the surface, they were the perfect couple—young, attractive, on the verge of falling in love—and at first, things seemed to be moving along smoothly, following the natural progression that all new relationships do. But as the weeks went by, Paris' frustration grew as Randy pushed her farther and farther away by using every excuse in the book to avoid making love to her. His rationale was that she was a virgin and her first time should be just right. Neither Randy nor Paris could have ever imagined how wrong it could have gone.

About a week ago, Vince asked Paris to go to Ohio Valley Wrestling, the WWE's training ground, to become a WWE diva. Randy was very supportive, even though he was less than thrilled with her living arrangements. She was going to be living in a house in Louisville, KY with three wrestlers, one of which Randy disliked immensely. To add stress to an already difficult situation, Paris' father, Danny Ocean, was insisting that she return home to Las Vegas, stating that he sent her to the WWE to learn about responsibility and the evils of a life in the entertainment business, not to become one of the company's many scantily-clad bimbos. It seemed to bother Danny that Paris was happy and that she had a boyfriend. He even went so far as to have Randy investigated, uncovering his arrest and discharge from the US Marine Corps. Of course, Paris already knew about Randy's past in the military and in the end, she broke free from Danny's control and signed her contract without his blessing.

On her last day with the WWE, Paul had given Paris a diamond ankle bracelet as gratuity/goodbye gift, which resulted in a hot and steamy tryst in the locker room that Randy almost walked in on. Paris was so ashamed…she loved Randy, but Paul always seemed to have this effect on her. The self-loathing became too much and she told Paul to stay away from her until she left the next morning. That night, Paris was hell-bent on seducing Randy, knowing that it would be a long time before she saw him again. Once again, Randy pushed her away and Paris' anger erupted so violently that she broke up with the Legend Killer and kicked him out of their room. Amidst all the emotion, Randy tried desperately to tell her the secret that he had been carrying around, but Paris was in no mood to listen.

What happened next was like a combination of something out of a bad romance novel and an equally bad porno flick. Paris went to a room party and got slightly inebriated, only to run into Paul on her way back to her room. Without a lot of preliminaries, Paris had sex with the very man that she had been hoping to avoid. And it wasn't just any sex…it was hard and intense, not what Paris pictured her first time to be. Naturally, Paul had no clue that she was a virgin, focusing more on his own pleasure. Afterward, he went back to being the same old Paul, the person Paris had learned to hate and distrust, despite her uncontrollable attraction to him. He became Triple H…arrogant, cold, ruthless, completely confident that whatever he wanted, he got. Paris had never met such an enigma. One moment she wanted to rip his clothes off and the next she wanted to scratch his eyes out. The guilt was overwhelming. She knew that she never should have had sex with him and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Randy would find out. She had hoped to be long gone in OVW before the shit hit the fan, but fate, as it often did, intervened.

After Paul left, Amy's boyfriend, Dave Batista, stopped by to check on Paris. Much to her shame and dismay, he had walked by and glimpsed her with Paul through the curtains. Dave advised her not to give up on Randy, that whatever had happened didn't matter, that she needed to hear what the Legend Killer had to say. The Monster of Evolution had sent Paris to take a bath while he went to find Randy. But as Paris exited the bathroom, she heard voices coming from Evolution's adjoining suite. Apparently, Dave had left the door slightly ajar by accident when he left. As Paris tiptoed to the door, she heard a conversation that she never should have heard, that she never wanted to hear, that to this moment was still echoing in her ears.

A bet. Randy, Dave, and Paul had made a bet over who could sleep with her first. Paris had never been so humiliated in her entire life. She flung the door open and totally unloaded on the three stunned members of Evolution. Feeling the sting and the hypocrisy of her verbal assault, Randy fired back with a barrage of his own. He told Paris that the bet was a mistake, that he had made it before he really knew her. Then, he fell in love with her, but Paul wouldn't let him out of it. That was why he refused to sleep with her…he didn't want to take her virginity on a bet. But then, Randy's self-effacing tirade took an ugly turn. What did it say about Paris when they had one little argument and then, she cheated on him? Randy knew what he did was stupid and immature, but what about what Paris had done? Needless to say, the conversation didn't end well, with Paris being carried kicking and screaming into her room by Paul, who unceremoniously threw her on the bed and told her that she was being a bitch. True, they had fucked each other, but she didn't need to keep rubbing it in Randy's face. As he slammed the door, Paris dissolved into her self-loathing guilt once again and vowed never to speak to Evolution as long as she lived.

About an hour or so later, Paris got a visit from her old friend, Amanda Jones, who had been promoted and give Paris' travel coordinator job, not to mention the fact that she was now dating Matt Hardy. What Amanda told her almost convinced Paris to pack her bags and go home. Almost. But that would have been quitting and Paris wasn't a quitter. Plus, if she quit, then, they won again—all the people who had hurt her…Paul, Sarah, even Randy to some extent. Amanda told Paris that Sarah had been down in the hotel gym when Dave came in to talk to Randy and try to calm him down. Sarah heard everything and was well on her way to letting everyone know exactly how Paris became a WWE diva…by sleeping with Triple H.

Unable to take anymore, Paris fell into a fitful sleep and awoke early so could leave for the airport unnoticed and without incident. Unfortunately, that was too much to ask. First, there was a confrontation with Sarah, in which Amanda and Matt, of all people, came to Paris' rescue, revealing that Sarah had bribed the gym attendant for information and then, falsely told him that her name was Amanda Jones when he asked her out. Naturally, Sarah gave the poor chump a disconnected phone number as well, and after he called it and discovered her trickery, he looked Amanda up in the hotel directory, being that he was an employee. Amanda was able to put two and two together and with some inadvertent help from Paul, succeeded in thoroughly embarrassing Miss Sarah. Next, Paul tried to talk to her and give her a letter, but before she could take it, Randy had rushed into the hotel lobby in his underwear, trying to catch Paris before she left. The morning ended with Randy on his knees begging Paris not to leave just yet, not before they talked, and Paris rushing out of the lobby in tears, the guilt unbearable. She never did get Paul's letter and was still wondering as she stared out the window what he could have possibly written in it to make her feel any better…or any worse than she already did.

Now, she was on a plane, headed for Ohio Valley Wrestling…the events in WWE a not-so-distant memory. She knew that when she went back to the WWE that she would have to face Randy and Paul again…it was inevitable. They were two of the biggest stars on RAW. She loved Randy with all of her heart, but Paris was a realist. She knew it could never be. The ghost of Paul and that fateful night would always be between them. She loved Randy too much to humiliate him like that, even though he insisted that he had forgiven her. She had given Paul something that she could never get back and God knows he was the last person on Earth who deserved it. It was something that had been meant for only one person and that was Randy Orton. Now, she could never give that to him. In fact, all she could offer Randy right now was painful reminders of her weakness and drama that he didn't need. It was pointless…she was used merchandise and no longer deserved a guy like the Legend Killer.

Hopefully, she would be too busy in her new home to dwell on it too much. She was going to be living in a house in Louisville with three wrestlers—Adam Copeland, who was coming back from a 14 month neck injury; Jeff Hardy, who was negotiating a return to the WWE; and Mike Mizanin of Real World fame, who was trying out for a developmental contract and a possible spot on Tough Enough next year. She would be training at Trax South with Fit Finlay, Ivory, and John 'Big' Gubrurick from Tough Enough. She hoped that it would take her mind off of everything else that was going on. She hoped that one day she would be able to close her eyes and not see Paul Levesque's mocking sneer. She hoped that she could sleep at night without seeing Randy's blue eyes boring into her, begging her to tell him why. She hoped that she could work hard enough to make everyone forget the gossip and see her for who she really was, not just the girl who screwed Triple H.

Hope. It was all she had left.

**Guess who's back…back again…Jeanne's back…tell a friend! Sorry this chapter was so short, but I kind of wanted to do a quick review of what had happened in The Simple Life, in case people only get time to skim over it. I've had several comments about the letter from Paul and just to clear up any confusion, ****Paris**** doesn't know yet that she has it because he slipped it into her bag when she wasn't looking. She's going to overlook it when she unpacks and then, find it later on. I've changed my mind several times on what I want it to say. Should it be an apology or a veiled threat? Is he done with her or will he pursue her? Any suggestions here would be helpful—it's the only thing that's stumping me in this sequel. Anyhoo, should I keep going? Please review—you all know this cheeky monkey loves reviews. Big hugs…**

**-Evilution**


	2. The First Day

Chapter 2 – The First Day

By Evilution

Disclaimer: I disclaim—I own nothing, except for Paris. Tammy and Katie are based on friends of mine—I'm sure they won't mind—tee hee! Because I don't know a lot about OVW at the time this story takes place or who their main stars were, I'm just making up my own based on what's on their website right now. I'm using some of the Tough Enough contestants as Paris' training group and I made up Trax South (because the gym on Tough Enough was called Trax). As many of you know, I'm a real stickler for accuracy and details and I like to write my fics according to what was really going on in the WWE at that time. Hope you guys don't mind me winging it and just making shit up for OVW. After all, it is called fiction. Enjoy!

Paris was one of the last passengers to depart the plane, mostly because she didn't have the energy to push and shove her way through the crowd. As she wandered through the airport, searching for a friendly face, she noticed a tall, blond woman with a bored expression on her face, holding a sign that said 'Paris Ocean.' Tentatively, she approached, taking in the woman's perfectly tailored black pinstripe pants, her crisp white blouse, and her impeccably coiffed, chin-length, streaked blond hair that flipped up impudently on the ends. The woman turned and stared at Paris with cold, blue eyes, sizing her up from head to toe. She pushed a stray lock of hair away from her face and smiled hesitantly.

"Paris?" she inquired, holding out her hand.

"You must be Tammy Petersen," Paris replied shaking her hand and noticing her flawless manicure.

"You know who I am?"

"Amy and Trish speak very highly of you."

Tammy laughed musically, tucking the sign into her briefcase. "And Vince and Shane speak very highly of you."

Paris blushed slightly. "I'm not sure why. I barely know them…I mean, I knew them when I was little and everything…but that's a long story."

"Well, I hate to seem rude, Paris, but we have a ton to do, so why don't we get your luggage and then, we can talk in the car, OK?"

Paris nodded and followed Tammy to the luggage area where they picked up her bags and between the two of them, carried the burden out to Tammy's waiting vehicle. As she tucked her bags into the trunk of Tammy's shiny, red Cavalier, Paris sensed that Tammy was studying her intently from behind her dark sunglasses, but when she made eye contact, the blond woman looked away.

As soon as they got on the freeway, Tammy informed Paris that it was about a forty minute drive to the house so they would have plenty of time to chat.

"I'll take you by the house first so you can drop off your bags and you can meet Adam if he's there," Tammy explained. "Then, I'll take you to Trax South and introduce you to Jim and Katie and all that jazz. Sound good?"

"Sure."

"You hungry?"

"Not yet. I had a snack on the plane," Paris lied. In reality, she had been too emotionally distraught to even think about eating. She told herself that she had to be careful not to let it get out of control again.

"Well, here's the plan then. We'll spend the first couple days getting you…acclimated to OVW, getting your clothes, getting your look perfected, and so on. On Wednesdays, we tape our TV show at the New Davis Arena and it airs locally on Friday night and Saturday afternoon, just in case anyone misses it. You can go to the taping this week and kind of observe how we do things. I think you'll find it very similar to WWE, if not more relaxed. Then, on Thursday, we'll get you going on your training. Do you have workout clothes?"

"Not really."

"We'll pick some things up for you today and…"

"I don't have much money," Paris interrupted.

"It's taken care of," Tammy assured her. "I want Katie to get your measurements so she can start putting together wardrobe ideas for you."

"When you say training," Paris began, nervously. "Do you mean in the ring?"

Tammy smiled. "We were gonna wait with that, but Shane thought it was best to get you started right away. You'll be spending part of your day studying and part of it training with the other developmental prospects."

"Are they divas, too?" Paris questioned.

Tammy chuckled. "Actually, you're the only girl. Your class consists of five guys that we're trying out as developmental talent to see if WWE wants to put them on Tough Enough next year. Your roommate, Mike Mizanin, is one of them."

Paris gave her a confused look. "But I thought people had to try out for Tough Enough. Are you saying some of them are picked in advance?"

"Of course. We have to make sure that at least a few of them can hack it. It can't be a complete crap shoot."

"Will I be going to the house shows?" Paris asked.

"Yes, on the weekends. Most of them are within driving distance. I'm sure it won't take you long to get used to the schedule."

"I'll work hard…I promise."

"I'm not worried," Tammy commented. "You have that stubborn, determined look about you. All I ask is that you don't make waves and don't cop a Princess attitude…I won't tolerate that."

"Yeah, well, about four weeks ago, copping a Princess attitude was a way of life for me…"

"Yeah? What happened?"

"The WWE happened."

Tammy looked confused. "What d'you mean?"

"Let's just say my crown got knocked a little crooked."

"Your crown or your halo?" Tammy quipped.

"Maybe both."

Tammy laughed. "I think I'm gonna like you, Paris."

"I hope so."

"Well, since we're acting like long-lost sorority sisters, let's cut through the crap, OK?"

Now it was Paris' turn to be confused. Just when she thought she was getting a handle on Tammy, the woman changed like the wind.

"OK, let's," Paris agreed.

"Amy called me this morning and gave me a full rundown of your activities over the past few weeks."

Paris blinked, feigning innocence. "Activities? What activities?"

Tammy gave her a withering glance. "Don't play dumb, Paris…you're much too smart for that. Orton, Triple H…Amy told me everything."

Obviously, Tammy was painfully aware of her past indiscretions. Nevertheless, Paris continued to act confused. "I'm still not sure what you're talking about. I mean, I coordinated for Evolution for three weeks, but…"

Tammy scoffed. "Was that what led up to you banging Triple H?"

Paris flushed slightly before turning to stare out the window. She couldn't believe that her secret was already out or that her supposed best friend, Amy Dumas, had betrayed her. Apparently, Amy wasn't any more her friend than the woman driving the car.

"I…I don't think th…that's anyone's business," Paris stammered.

"Well, unfortunately, Paris, you work for me now, so I'm making it my business. This little love triangle you have with Orton and Trips—it isn't something that I need to worry about, is it? I mean, I don't care how you live your life or who you sleep with…as long as it doesn't interfere with my business…"

"It won't!" Paris snapped, getting annoyed.

"Because you see, Paris, OVW is my business," Tammy went on. "And OVW is the one tiny part of the WWE that has managed to remain free from Triple H's control…and I'd prefer it to stay that way."

"Look, Tammy," Paris exclaimed, her voice sharper than she intended. After all, this woman was her boss. "I'm not here to cause you any problems. There is no me and Orton, there is no me and Triple H…there is no me and anyone! I'm here to become a WWE diva…period! And I'm here because I earned it and Vince saw something special in me…not because I fucked Triple H! Are we clear?"

Tammy stared at her with what could have been grudging admiration that Paris had finally found her voice and stood up for herself. "OK, settle down, for crying out loud! I'm not worried…I was just making sure you were serious."

"God, I can't believe Amy told you!"

"It's only because she cares…"

"Really?" Paris interjected. "I can't believe I actually thought she was my friend!"

"She is your friend," Tammy replied sharply. "She was just trying to spare you the pain of having to rehash it all because believe me, I'm the nosiest person on the face of the Earth and I would have dug until I hit dirt. Trust me, Paris, Amy did nothing but paint you in the most flattering light. I totally believe her, but I'm still questioning your judgment on a couple of things."

Paris laughed mirthlessly. She was actually relieved that the cat was out of the bag so she didn't have to hide and pretend or explain all the details. Not that she wanted to advertise it, but she was going to place her life in Tammy's hands for the next few weeks, so it was probably best that the executive assistant had all the facts.

"Which part are you questioning exactly?" Paris asked. "The fact that I dumped Randy Orton or that I slept with Triple H? Take your pick…they were both genius moves on my part."

Tammy shrugged as she changed lanes, ignoring Paris' sarcasm. "I don't know that dumping RKO was necessarily bad judgment. Randy was training here when I started in 2000 and he was an arrogant prick. Maybe he's changed…I don't know."

"Trust me…he has," Paris insisted. "He's the sweetest, most wonderful guy…"

"Who bet his friends 100 dollars that he could nail you?"

"I know what he did, but what I did was worse."

Tammy snorted. "How was getting laid worse?"

"I cheated on him!"

"No, you didn't. You were broke up, remember?"

"Those are just semantics. I still cheated on him, and thanks to Sarah, everyone knows about it."

"Ah, Miss Sarah," Tammy mused sarcastically. "That's another reason Amy called. She didn't want Sarah's poison getting to me before the facts."

"So…I've heard a little bit, but what's your issue with Sarah?"

Tammy shrugged once again. "She just thought she was more important than she really was. I got tired of her making trouble, so I transferred her to SmackDown. That was earlier this year. Then, she slept with Brock, who I'd been dating for two years, just to get even with me, which is really ignorant because in reality, sending her to SmackDown was somewhat of a promotion, even though I didn't realized it at the time. When Brock figured out that I wasn't about to forgive and forget, he had Stephanie transfer her to RAW. Shane, who's one of my best friends, demoted her to the ring crew, but it doesn't look like it changed her ways any. What's your deal with her?"

"I really don't know," Paris remarked honestly. "She tried talking down to me on my first night and I wasn't gonna take it, so she stole my best friend and started spreading gossip about me and Rob Van Dam, me and Randy Orton, me and Evolution…you name it."

"You dated Van Dam, too?"

Paris shook her head. "I just went out with him a few times."

"Did you fuck him?"

"No," Paris replied. She was shocked at Tammy's directness, but it was slowly growing on her. "Almost, but no."

They were silent for several moments before Tammy spoke again.

"Paris, can I ask you a question and you have to be honest and not get offended?"

"I don't offend easily…and I noticed that you're very direct."

Tammy smirked. "Tell me, how was he? Triple H, I mean?"

Paris shrugged, deciding that she liked Tammy Petersen, despite the initial cold reception. In fact, Paris could almost feel that they were going to be good friends. She appreciated Tammy's openness and honesty… so much so that it didn't even bother her to answer such probing and personal questions.

"I don't really know," Paris answered easily. "I was a virgin, so I don't have anything to compare him to."

Paris expected mild shock at this revelation, but she didn't expect Tammy to nearly veer off the road, swerving into the neighboring lane and nearly causing a multi-car accident. Tammy stuck out her middle finger in response to the honking and yelling of surrounding motorists.

"You lost your virginity to Triple H?" the executive assistant exclaimed after she had regained her composure.

"I take it Amy left that part out," Paris stated dryly as she checked her seatbelt.

"Umm…yeah!"

"So what exactly did the red-headed demon tell you?"

Tammy sighed. "She said Evolution made a bet over who could sleep with you, but then, Randy started to like you and Batista fell for Amy—that little slut, by the way. Anyway, she said that Randy wouldn't sleep with you, which I found peculiar, since I heard he'd nail anything that moved when he was here in OVW. So, you got mad and fucked Trips, and then, you found out about the bet and had a complete meltdown. To wrap things up, Sarah heard Randy discussing it and told everyone that you banged Trips to become a diva. Is that it?"

"In a nutshell…yeah."

"So I'll rephrase my question about Triple H…is he hung like there's no tomorrow?"

Paris choked on her bottled water. "Why don't you go ask Stephanie?" she told Tammy with mock irritation.

"Because she told me she needed a magnifying glass and of course, I don't believe her. Now, come on…is he?"

"I told you I don't know."

"So you're telling me that you've never seen another dick before in your life?"

"OK, fine!" Paris shouted. "He's magnificently well-endowed! It's like a gift from the Gods…I'm still having trouble walking! There…are you happy now?"

Tammy smirked evilly. "Very."

"Yeah, well…so is Randy…just in case you were wondering!"

"I thought you never slept with him?"

"That doesn't mean I've never seen it…or touched it for that matter!"

Tammy snorted. "I wish Vince had warned me that he was sending the locker room ho down here."

Paris thought she was serious and was about to tell her off, but with a sideways glance, she saw the mischievous twinkle in Tammy's previously cold blue eyes. Yes, these two women were going to get along just fine.

"So, Paris," Tammy went on. "How in the hell did Amy end up hooking up with Dave Batista?"

Paris shrugged. "I guess she just got sick of Matt's crap. They got in a big fight on my first night and that was the first time she actually spent any time with Dave."

"Matt can definitely be an asshole when he feels like it," Tammy remarked.

"He's dating my friend, Amanda, now. He and I didn't like each other much, but he defended me to Sarah this morning, so I might give him another chance, especially since I'll be living with Jeff."

"Have you ever met Jeff before?" Tammy asked, a certain softness creeping into her voice.

"Yeah, he visited Jericho and Christian on my first night."

"Can I tell you a secret? Swear you won't say anything?"

"Swear."

"I've had the biggest crush on Jeff Hardy for like three years. I kept waiting for him to do a stint in OVW, but he never did. The little shit never gets injured! I can't believe I even dated Brock for so long…Jeff's so much more my type."

"Matt says he's gay."

"Jeff? Yeah, right. I'll buy that when I personally see him doing a guy up the ass. Until then, no way."

"So what's the story with you and Brock?"

Tammy shrugged casually. "I met him in 2000 when I started working here. He was teaming with Shelton Benjamin…they were the Minnesota Stretching Crew. We started dating after Christmas and then, he got the call up to the WWE in 2002…around the same time they called Orton and Batista and the Prototype…I mean, Cena. We did the long distance thing for like a year, and then, he screwed Sarah earlier this year. Of course, Dawn told me right away and I dumped him. He called me a lot, but I stood my ground. I guess he's with Sable now. I haven't seen him since we broke up."

"Do you still love him?"

"I don't know if I ever really did. I mean, I dated other people while he was gone. I never slept around, but I dated. Katie and John are the same way, except I think there's even less loyalty there than there was with me and Brock. See, Katie started here in January 2002 and she had no sooner started dating Cena when he got the call. So they've been long distance practically they're entire relationship. I honestly think that if they even tried to spend more time together, they'd end up hating each other."

Paris smirked. "I have a question for you and I'll let you know that turn around is fair play."

"Shoot."

"This Brock person…is he hung like there's no tomorrow?"

Tammy laughed. "Actually, Brock's a little long on promise and short on delivery if you know what I mean."

"Are you seeing anyone now?"

"I went out on a couple dates with Matt Morgan," Tammy stated noncommittally. "He was nice, but all the other guys here in OVW are so young and I'm like going on 27. They're just all so immature with a capital I. Maybe my status will change when Mr. Hardy arrives."

Paris smiled. "I'll help if I can."

Paris glanced out the window and noticed that the scenery had become more suburban. They had been so busy talking that the drive had just flown by. Tammy turned down a street and stopped in front of a modest-sized, log cabin-style house that was one story but had an addition built onto the roof. It looked like a nice enough house in a very pretty neighborhood.

"Here we are," Tammy said, turning off the ignition. "Oh, good—it looks like Adam's here." She pointed to a black Durango in the driveway.

Paris nodded, fighting the butterflies in her stomach as she unloaded her bags from Tammy's trunk. She followed Tammy up the walk and into the house, which was very clean and even smelled nice, considering a guy was living there. There was no one around, but they could here a shower running, so Tammy decided to give Paris a tour while they waited to see Adam.

The living room was medium-sized and had a large, plush couch along the left hand wall by the window, a matching loveseat against the far wall, and a recliner to the right. A large-screen TV was to the left of the door as they came in. To their right, just before the recliner, was a doorway that led into a large bedroom with two beds. There were clothes all over and Paris assumed that this was Adam's room. Behind the recliner, there was an archway leading to stairs that went up to Paris' loft. On the far wall, next to the loveseat, there was another archway that led down a hall. To the left was a tiny bedroom and to the right was a doorway that led to the kitchen. Tammy showed Paris a door in the kitchen that led down to the laundry room.

"Where's the dining room and the bathroom?" Paris asked.

"This was originally a one-bedroom house and that tiny bedroom was the dining area. We put a wall up and built the loft so we could house more people. As for the bathroom, you have to go through Adams' room to use it, but you have your own bathroom anyway. Come on—I'll show you the loft."

Paris grabbed her bags and followed Tammy, who was also carrying a couple pieces of her luggage, up the stairs. The loft had a low ceiling and large windows on the south and west walls. The bed was large and sat under the west window, but it didn't have a frame or headboard. It was just a box spring and a mattress on the floor, adorned with a beautiful blue and white comforter. There was blue plush carpet on the floor and an oak nightstand next to her bed, along with a matching dresser and a full-length mirror in one corner. Tammy crossed the room to the north wall and showed her a doorway with a blue beaded curtain that led to the bathroom. The soft carpet gave way to white tile and there was a sink and a toilet to the right along with some shelves that held matching blue and white towels and had extra room for Paris' personal items. To the left, there was a hamper and an archway that led to a walk-in closet. Paris made a mental note to write Tess to send her more clothes since she had room now. But what garnered her attention most was the large bathtub on the far north wall, opposite the beaded curtain. It took up the entire wall and sat underneath a small window. It wasn't sunk in because they were on the second floor, but there were two steps up to get into it. Tammy pointed out that there was a shower attachment for easier convenience.

Paris put her bags in the closet with intent to unpack later as Tammy turned upon hearing the sound of someone coming up the stairs. The girls went through the curtain into the main room where they were greeted by one of the most impressive male specimens Paris had ever seen.

He was tall and lanky with long blond hair, still damp from his shower. He was shirtless, his broad chest narrowing into a lean waist that sported not a six-pack, but a very impressive eight-pack. A large sun tattoo stood out on his upper left arm and as Tammy approached, his handsome face broke into a blinding, toothy grin.

"Hey, gorgeous," he said, pulling the executive assistant into a hug as he glanced over her shoulder and regarded Paris with skepticism. Paris found this strange as he knew she would be here today.

"Hey, Adam," Tammy replied, hugging him back and then, stepping aside to present Paris. "I want you to meet someone—this is Paris Ocean, our newest diva."

"Nice to meet you, Paris," Adam remarked, shaking her hand and smiling.

"Hi," Paris stated, smiling back nervously as his cold, gray eyes flickered over her with disinterest. Something about him evoked similar feelings in her, much like Paul had done when she first met him.

"Paris has been coordinating for Evolution for the past few weeks," Tammy explained. "So she knows all the ins and outs. I'm counting on you and Jeff to make her feel welcome."

Adam nodded and smiled, a somewhat wicked grin at the mention of Evolution. He made a mental note to call Paul Levesque and have the girl thoroughly checked out before he agreed to anything.

"Paris is gonna be Jeff's manager when he gets here, which means she'll be your manager eventually, since you and Jeff are gonna team against the DoS," Tammy went on. "We're looking at a November debut for Paris and Jeff, so I need you to work with Jeff as much as possible. Paris is gonna be training with the Fit and Ivory and the Tough Enough wannabes, but I'll have you and Jeff work with her, too…you know, to get used to each other."

"I'm looking forward to it," Adam replied, giving Paris a more interested once over, his eyes lingering in some places longer than others.

Paris shifted anxiously, suddenly feeling naked in her jeans and her gray WWE baby tee. Tammy didn't seem to notice as she continued to ramble on to Adam about various things, including Jeff's eminent arrival. Adam appeared to only be pretending to listen, his attention still focused on Paris. Finally, Tammy turned and grabbed her arm.

"Well, I hate to run off, Adam, but we have tons to do. I still need to take Paris to Trax and introduce her, not to mention getting Katie going on her wardrobe."

"Yeah, I need to hit the gym," Adam said. "Paris, I'll be home tonight and we can…get to know each other better."

"I can hardly wait," Paris lied, trying to decipher whether his words had a hidden meaning or not. She decided that she was being paranoid. After all, she barely knew the man, but her experiences over the past few weeks tended to make her more than a little suspicious of everyone.

Paris followed Tammy down the stairs with Adam close behind. He bid them goodbye as they walked out to Tammy's car, his eyes never straying very far from Paris' swaying hips. Smirking, he flipped open his cell phone and punched in a number as the car pulled away from the house.

"Hello?" the familiar voice of Triple H echoed through the phone.

"Paul?" he greeted. "It's Adam."

"Adam, how the hell are you?"

"I'm good and you?"

"I'll be better when I get my title back. What can I do for you?"

Adam snorted quietly, always amused that Paul referred to the World title as 'his title.' "I want you to tell me a little story about Paris," the blond Canadian requested.

"Paris?" Paul replied nonchalantly. "The capital of France, lovely in the springtime, I hear…"

"Not that Paris, ass clown."

"Oh, you mean Paris Hilton…blond, rich, likes to say 'that's hot'…"

Adam sighed with impatience that he was being played. "Wrong Paris…try again."

"Hmm…I'm just not sure who you're referring to," Paul lied, smirking.

"Think real hard, Paul."

Paul chuckled, giving up the charade. "I'm gonna end up getting hard if we keep talking about her."

"Oh, so you do know who I'm referring to."

"Paris Ocean, right? Little blond virgin, nice ass, huge rack…not real smart?"

Adam blinked. "She's a virgin? Get outta here!"

"Well, she was…until last night."

"I didn't really think that deflowering virgins was your style, Paul," Adam quipped.

Paul snorted. "Like I knew. She's been dating Orton for three weeks."

"Randy Orton?"

"No, Cowboy Bob Orton, idiot. Of course, Randy Orton."

"Yet she gives it up to you?"

"What can I say, man? I am that damn good."

Adam laughed incredulously. "How could you not tell? Are you that much of an insensitive prick?"

Paul laughed as well. Coming from Adam, that was a compliment. "Well, considering she was such a pro at giving head…I never dreamed…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa….when did she give you head?"

"The night I lost my belt…in DC."

Adam shook his head. "Hold it…I'm confused. I thought you said she was dating Orton."

"She was."

"I'm still confused."

"Copeland, you're such an amateur."

"Fuck off…now, start talking."

"Listen and learn from the master, kid. It all started about a month ago in Lafayette…"

Meanwhile...Tammy and Paris drove to OVW headquarters on the upper east side of Louisville. OVW headquarters and the Trax South training complex were one and the same building, which was within blocks of the New Davis Arena. Paris was still baffled about Adam's strange behavior and she wasn't sure exactly what to make of him. Maybe Tammy had some insight on the situation.

"Tammy?"

"Yeah?"

"What's the deal with Adam?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know…just a dumb feeling, I guess. I mean, he was looking at me like he was suspicious of me or something."

Tammy smirked. "He was probably plotting how to get you in bed."

"Yeah, right."

"You obviously don't know Adam's reputation very well. That's his MO. I've seen him walk up to girls…strangers and ask if they wanna fuck. And he's only been here a couple of months."

Paris rolled her eyes. "I can't imagine that approach works very well for him."

"Oh, you'd be surprised. I mean, he is Edge after all."

"Have you ever hooked up with him?"

Tammy shook her head. "Since Brock, I try to separate business from pleasure and not date wrestlers. Besides, I overheard Adam telling someone that I'm the coldest woman he's ever met…including Alannah, his ex-wife."

"Didn't she leave him while he was hurt?"

"Yeah, but there was infidelity afoot, I suspect…on both sides."

"Maybe I just need to get to know him better."

Tammy shrugged as she pulled into the parking lot of Trax South. "Maybe. But know this…a lot of people don't know it, but Adam is actually good friends with Paul Levesque. From what I hear, they're two peas in a pod."

"That's what Randy told me," Paris said, fighting back tears at the thought of The Legend Killer.

Tammy turned off the car and Paris followed her inside the Trax complex. The first thing they did was stop by Tammy's office so that the executive assistant could check her mail and her messages. Then, Tammy led her down the hall to another office where a rotund, middle-aged man was having a highly excited, animated conversation with his speaker phone. Tammy waited for him to finish before she and Paris entered the office.

"Jim, this is…"

"Tammy! Where the hell have you been, girl?"

"I was picking up our new diva," Tammy reminded him. "Jim, this is Paris Ocean—Vince's goddaughter. Paris, this is Jim Cornette—he runs OVW."

"Nice to meet you, sir," Paris said, extending her hand.

Jim shook her hand rather distractedly. He seemed more intent on sizing her up from head to toe.

"Welcome to OVW, Paris," Jim said as he circled her. "Nice, very nice…very attractive. Let's hope you have some talent to go with it. When does she start?"

"Thursday," Tammy replied.

"Good, we need to get her in shape."

Paris was annoyed by his intense scrutiny and the fact that he was talking about her like she wasn't there.

"Are you saying I'm fat?"

Jim snorted. "Far from it. You need some meat on your bones, honey…eat a sandwich or two for Christ's sake. And just to let you know because I can see that outraged, Women's Lib look on your face, I'm a Southerner, I call all women 'honey,' 'sweetie,' and 'doll,' so deal with it. Sexual harassment suits don't scare me."

Paris' mouth fell open at his bluntness, but she didn't respond. Personally, she didn't have a problem being called 'honey' or 'baby' as long as it wasn't disrespectful. She was just shocked by his directness. It seemed to be a common trait with people in OVW. Quite different from WWE where nobody seemed to say what they meant.

"Maybe this would be a good time to go over the rules," Jim went on. "When you work for me, you respect others. Treat people like you would want to be treated. We're a family here. You have a problem…you come to me or Tammy. I trust her implicitly. You show up on time, you take your lumps, and you represent OVW with pride. You're allowed to have fun and to have a life, but remember, your behavior reflects on OVW, which reflects on me. Don't get falling down drunk in public, don't say stupid shit to the media, and don't whore around the locker room. Respect yourself, respect this business, and work hard…that's all I ask."

"I won't let you down, Mr. Cornette."

"I'm sure you won't…and call me Jim. Ladies, I hate to be rude, but I have a meeting. Tammy, we'll talk later and Katie was looking for you. Good luck, Paris."

With that, Jim nodded curtly and ushered them out of the office.

"He's harmless really," Tammy reassured her. "Just a little high-strung. He may seem abrasive, but he has a huge heart. Come on—I'll introduce you to Big and Fit, and then, we'll go see Katie."

Paris followed Tammy down to the training center, struggling to keep up. They had been on the go since she landed and Paris was starting to feel the jet lag. They walked into the gym where a ring was set up and two men were sparring.

"Can I have your attention?" Tammy called, halting the action. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to introduce all of you to our newest diva—guys, this is Paris Ocean. Paris, this is John Gubrurick, your head trainer—you can call him Big. This is Fit Finlay, your in-ring trainer. And these fine gentlemen in the ring are Chris Nawrocki and Ryan Reeves and that's Daniel Puder and Brian Danovich."

Paris was greeted warmly as Big and Fit both shook her hand and welcomed her to OVW. Chris, Ryan, Daniel, and Brian all welcomed her aboard with Daniel winking flirtatiously and kissing the back of her hand. Tammy explained that Paris' diva training would be done by Lisa Moretti, who was better known as Ivory, and she'd be there later in the week. Tammy excused herself from the guys and led Paris back to the locker room, leaving each of the Tough Enough wannabes glancing appreciatively at the newest diva.

"So what do you think?" Puder asked Danovich as Tammy and Paris headed toward the back and their friends resumed sparring.

Brian shrugged. "She's cute, I guess."

"Cute? Did you see her rack?"

"There's more to a woman than just her rack, as you so eloquently put it, Puder."

"Yeah, well, I beg to differ. What do you think her story is?"

Brian shook his head. "Didn't you recognize her?" When he saw that Puder hadn't, he continued. "Her old man owns the Mirage, the Bellagio, and the MGM."

"You mean in Vegas?"

"Where else, numb nuts?"

"So you're saying she's rich?"

"Rich doesn't even cover it, Puder. She's so far outta your league, you'd need to do deep space exploration just to get into her league."

Puder nodded, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Yep, there's definitely a story there."

"She was a travel coordinator for Evolution," Ryan Reeves commented from the ring. Big and Fit had both taken Chris aside to show him a mistake he had made and Ryan had sat down in the corner, overhearing his friends' conversation. "I also heard that she's Vince's goddaughter. He's friends with her parents or something. She got this job on a personal recommendation form Triple H himself, but that's all I know."

Puder and Danovich nodded thoughtfully as Big and Fit told the boys to take a break.

"I heard she was dating Randy Orton," Chris Nawrocki put in as he wiped his face with a towel and joined his friends.

"Then, I guess that explains how she got the job," Puder said knowingly.

Ryan snorted. "Did you ever think maybe she has talent, ass monkey?"

"I'm sure she has talent," Puder smirked. "I'm just not sure if it's in the ring."

Chris laughed and high-fived Puder as Reeves and Danovich shook their heads in disgust and exited the gym, leaving Puder and Nawrocki to their frat boy antics.

In the back, Tammy led Paris into the women's locker room where she removed a combination lock from her briefcase and hooked it on one of the lockers. Turning to Paris, she handed the younger woman a set of keys.

"OK, here's your keys," Tammy explained. "There's a key to the house, the car, and the gym. The key chain has your locker combo on it."

"Car?" Paris questioned, tucking the keys in her purse.

"The black Durango," Tammy told her. "You know…the one at the house. You're sharing it with Jeff, Adam, and Mike."

Paris smiled. "That was a tight ride."

Tammy nodded in agreement as she perused a manila folder. "You have an appointment for a physical at 9 AM tomorrow…I'll pick you up. Are you on birth control, Paris?"

Paris gave her a puzzled look. "No."

Tammy made some notes in the file. "I'll call the doctor and tell her to do a pelvic, too. We need to get you on birth control."

"Why?"

"Because when you're wrestling, you need to know exactly when you're getting your period, how long you'll have it, and when you'll be done."

"Oh."

"Did you use protection with Trip…I mean, Paul?" Tammy asked with a questioning look.

"Umm…no, not really."

Tammy opened the folder once again and made more notes. "I'll have the doctor do a pregnancy test and check you for STDs."

Paris laughed nervously. "Tammy, I don't know if that's nec…"

"Paris, don't be naïve. I know he's Triple H, but you just can't be sure these days."

Paris nodded solemnly as Tammy gave her a reassuring glance and linked arms with her.

"Come on—let's go see Katie."

Paris went down the hallway with Tammy and followed the executive assistant into a series of rooms that had some make-up tables and several racks of women's clothing. Paris noticed a pretty, petite woman picking through the racks and making notes on a clipboard. She looked to be about in her mid-twenties and she had shoulder-length dark hair with honey-blond streaks. She was wearing a denim pencil miniskirt and a dark brown shirt with matching boots. She looked up as Tammy and Paris entered. As they approached, it appeared that she had been crying.

"Hey, Katie," Tammy greeted, noticing her friend's sadness. "Is everything OK?"

"Fine," Katie replied, a little too quickly. "Is this Paris?"

"Umm…yeah," Tammy said, still distracted by Katie's mood. "Paris Ocean, this is Katie Carlisle, our head designer."

"Nice to meet you, Paris," Katie said, shaking Paris' hand. "She's pretty," the designer went on, turning to Tammy. "What are we doing with her?"

"I was thinking something like Lita," Tammy described. "Funky, extreme, but maybe a little edgier, sexier. She has to compliment Jeff's look."

Katie nodded in agreement, stroking her chin. "I like the nose piercing. Maybe we could have her eyebrow or something done. And we could put a streak in her hair…blue or purple…something funky."

"Can you deal with that, Paris?" Tammy asked.

Paris shrugged. "Eyebrow piercing? Blue hair? Sounds fun."

"OK, shut the door, T," Katie ordered. "Let's get your measurements, sweetheart, and then, I can get to work on your wardrobe. Take off everything but your bra and panties."

Paris nodded and began undressing as Katie handed Tammy her clipboard and grabbed a tape measure.

"I can have her eyebrow done today," Tammy said, making some notes of her own. "And I'll make her a hair appointment tomorrow after her physical. Then, I can pick up Jeff at the airport and after I drop him off, Paris and I can go shopping for her wardrobe."

"Perfect," Katie stated, wrapping the tape measure around Paris' rib cage. "36 inches…you're a D cup, right?"

Paris nodded as Katie measured her waist and hips. "Waist is 23 inches, hips 33 inches…damn, girl, you're tiny."

"Look who's talking," Paris retorted cheerfully. She liked Katie, who seemed very sweet and genuine despite her earlier melancholy.

"Yeah, but hello…I'm only 5'2"…you're like 5'7". You need to eat a sandwich or two, Paris."

"That's what Jim said," Tammy remarked.

Katie laughed as she indicated that they were done and Paris could get dressed. Paris slipped back into her jeans and T-shirt as Tammy and Katie huddled, talking and making notes. When she approached them, she discovered that the conversation had turned personal. Neither woman seemed to mind that she had joined them.

"Why were you crying when we came in?" Tammy demanded.

Katie wiped away a stray tear. "Tammy, please don't hate me…"

"I could never hate you."

"I have to put in my notice. Friday will be my last day."

Tammy's blue eyes got wide with panic. "What! Why!"

"It's complicated…I have to go home to New York."

"Katie, please…I'm begging you. Please don't do this to me right now—not with Paris and all the new TE guys starting."

"I'm sorry," Katie replied regretfully.

"Why are you leaving?"

"My mom's cancer…it came out of remission. They're not giving her very long to live. My dad needs me to come home and start helping him run the firm. I don't want to leave but…"

"Don't be silly," Tammy sighed, taking her friend into a hug. "This is your family…your mom we're talking about."

"I'm sorry it's such short notice."

"Katie, it's OK. I'll call Stephanie…I'm sure she can spare someone. You've been groomed since birth to run your parents' design firm. They need you more than I do right now, and plus, there's more money for you. I mean…come on! Isn't J-Lo one of your parents' clients?"

"One of many," Katie replied with a faint smile.

"Then, go. This is your dream, remember?"

"But I'm leaving you in the lurch with rent on our condo and everything."

Tammy waved her hand dismissively. "I let you move in with me to help you out. As paltry as Jim pays me, I can afford the condo alone, OK?"

"Are you sure?"

"Positive, but I have a question."

Katie nodded.

"What about Cena?" Tammy asked.

Paris' ears perked up at the mention of John Cena.

"What about him?" Katie replied emotionless.

"Have you told him?"

"No, but I will."

"What are you gonna tell him?"

"That I'm breaking up with him," Katie explained tearfully. "I just don't have time for him right now. Plus, it's been coming for a while. I mean, I love John, but I'm not in love with him. The whole thug thing was cute at first, even when he was Prototype, but I want more…and he knows it. Besides, now he'll be free to go after that dumb whore, Dawn Marie."

Tammy's brow furrowed. "Katie, Dawn's not…"

"I know, I know…she's your friend. Probably yours, too, Paris. I'm sorry…I just see how she looks at him on camera…"

"I was out with Dawn and Cena a couple weeks ago," Paris put in. "And he was a perfect gentleman. Of course, he was flirting, but that was with all of us, not just Dawn. The one you should really be jealous of is Randy's mom…John was all over her when we went over there for dinner." Paris smirked jokingly, letting Tammy know that she was trying to lighten the mood.

Katie gave her a strange look. "Randy Orton's mother?"

"Yeah, John wouldn't leave her alone. It was embarrassing really. Randy said he felt like Steve Stifler from American Pie."

Tammy burst out laughing and Katie realized that Paris was just joking around, trying to cheer her up.

"I appreciate you guys trying to cheer me up," Katie remarked. "I promise I'll talk to John soon…and I'll tell him the truth," she added pointedly, noticing Tammy's stern look. "Now, you two go…let me get to work on this wardrobe. It'll be my final masterpiece."

Tammy gave Katie another hug, squeezing her tightly as Paris touched the designer's arm reassuringly.

"Thank you," the newest diva told her. "I know you'll make me look awesome."

"I'm sorry we won't have the chance to get close, Paris," Katie said remorsefully. "You seem like a real nice kid." Instinctively, Katie gave Paris a quick hug before ushering both women into the hallway.

"God, this couldn't happen at a worse time," Tammy muttered as she rushed down the hall, followed closely by an exhausted Paris. Turning, she noticed the strained look on the blond diva's face. "I'm sorry, Paris, you must be exhausted, not to mention famished. Why don't we go have a late lunch and then, I'll take you to get your eyebrow done and get some workout clothes…what d'you say?"

"That sounds great," Paris stated thankfully.

Paris waited while Tammy checked in with Jim and then, she followed the executive assistant out to her car. As they were driving through downtown Louisville, Tammy called Paris' doctor to inform her about their wish for a birth control evaluation. Then, she called a woman named Lori and made a hair appointment for Paris at 11:15 the next day.

"There…that leaves us plenty of time to pick up Jeff and get your wardrobe tomorrow afternoon," Tammy explained as she pulled into a small, eclectic café.

Once they had been seated and ordered, Tammy opened her cell phone and called someone very familiar to Paris.

"Stephanie?" Tammy greeted. "Hey, it's Tammy Petersen…I'm good and you?...That's terrific…Of course, I'll be there. Listen, I wish I was calling to exchange pleasantries, but I have a big problem. Katie Carlisle's quitting…I need a new designer ASAP…Her mom's cancer came back and she has to go home…Yeah…Are you serious? Are you sure that would work?...Well, I know Olga loved it in OVW when she used to work here and I really like her work…And if there's conflict with her and Sable…"

Paris couldn't help but notice that the word 'Sable' came out of Tammy's mouth as if it were something poisonous and distasteful.

"Stephanie, you don't know how much I appreciate this…You're the best…Paris? Yeah, she's right here—hold on. Oh, and thanks again. She wants to talk to you," Tammy told Paris, handing her the phone.

"Hello?" Paris greeted tentatively. She was anxious about what Stephanie may or may not have heard and why she wanted to talk to her.

"Made quite an auspicious departure, didn't you, hon?" the SmackDown GM remarked.

"Look, Steph…I'm sorry about Paul…it just…"

Stephanie's musical laughter echoed through the phone. "Paris, please! Is that what you think? That I'm jealous?"

"Umm…I don't know…"

"Honey, believe me…I'm more over Paul that Chris Jericho when he wrestles in Canada. I just hope you comprehend the can of worms you've opened."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, first, there's the talk and the rumors…"

"I'm already used to that."

"Then, there's the inevitable fact that you've let Paul Levesque get into your head. He won't let go until he has everything he wants, Paris. He's a powerful demon to exorcise…trust me, I know."

"I think he already got everything he wants from me, Steph."

"Don't be so sure. If it was only about sex, he could get that from any girl. Just don't let your guard down…any more than you already have."

Paris chuckled mirthlessly. "I've already made a vow, Steph…I'm no longer anyone's fool."

"What about Orton?"

"What about him?"

"Is there hope?"

"I don't think so."

"But you still love him?"

"So what if I do? It can never be, and to quote Steve, that's the bottom line."

"Oh, God, now you're quoting Steve? Next, you'll be telling me your new motto is DTA—don't trust anybody."

"Those are actually words to live by…thanks, Steph," Paris stated with a touch of sarcasm.

"Paris, don't shut it off completely, OK? Twenty years old is too young to put up walls."

"Maybe then I won't get hurt," Paris said. "Or hurt the ones I love."

"Listen, sweetie, I have to go, but please don't give up hope, OK? Things have a ways of working themselves out. Look at me and Shawn…it only took ten years, but we finally made it happen. Keep your chin up, OK?"

"Thanks, Steph…take care."

"Everything OK?" Tammy asked, sipping her iced tea.

"Fine…she was just giving me a pep talk. How about you? Do we have a designer?"

"Fortunately, yes," Tammy replied as the waiter put their food in front of them. "Olga's coming back from SmackDown. This environment is much better suited for her temperament. Stephanie hired an assistant for her a couple months ago…some girl named Kimberly McGill who interned with Bobby Trendy out in Hollywood. She has a lot of talent and all of the SmackDown stars really like her, so Stephanie's gonna give her Olga's job. She doesn't take crap off of people like Sable and she doesn't lose her cool like Olga does in those situations."

"I guess everything worked out then," Paris added.

"I guess so," Tammy agreed, still distracted by Katie's eminent exit. She couldn't help but wonder how John Cena was going to take the news.

About an hour later, Tammy and Paris had finished their meal and headed to a tattoo parlor called The Silver Dragon. Paris endured the pain as a guy named Casey pierced her eyebrow, adorning it with a small silver barbell with spikes on each end. Tammy paid for the handiwork with her company credit card and practically had to drag Paris out the door, but not before the diva made an appointment to return on Wednesday for a tattoo she couldn't take her eyes off of. Next, the girls stopped at Wal-mart where Paris picked out some workout shorts, track pants, and sport bras, as well as a few personal items. At the checkout, Tammy insisted on paying, but Paris' pride started to come out a little bit. In the end, she let Tammy pay for the clothes since they were work-related, but she used money from her last WWE paycheck to pay for her toiletries. She planned on using her emergency credit card to pay for her tattoo and she prayed that Danny hadn't cut it off yet. As they were leaving, Tammy glanced at her watch and asked Paris if she minded if they stopped by Cellular One so she could pay her cell phone bill. Paris agreed, stating it would be the perfect time for her to get her own cell phone and return Danny's to him. After Tammy paid her bill, the salesperson began asking Paris a bunch of questions that she didn't know the answers to…questions about her current service and peak hour calls and roaming. Finally, Paris just opened her phone and punched in Danny's number.

"This is Danny Ocean," her father's voice greeted.

"Dad, its Paris."

"Paris, how are you?"

"Not good. I'm at Cellular One trying to get a new phone and they keep asking me all of these annoying questions…" She glared at the salesgirl.

"You don't need a new phone," Danny sighed. "Just keep the one you have and I'll get the bill changed to your name. You don't have any established credit anyway."

"Really? But you said you were cutting me off…"

"I know perfectly well what I said. I'm changing the credit card to your name, too, and I had the limit upped to 500 dollars…just in case you need a little extra while you get started there."

"But, Dad…"

"Don't argue with me or I might change my mind. I trust you got to Louisville safely?"

"Yes, but…"

"And I'm anxious to meet Ricky. Maybe I judged him too soon…"

"Dad, his name's Randy and…and…"

"And what?"

"Well, we're…we're not together anymore so…"

"What happened?"

"That's a story for another day. Anyway, thank you. I'm kind of holding up the line here so…"

"Of course. Take care of yourself, Princess."

"Bye, Dad," Paris said with tears in her eyes. "He called me Princess," she said to a man in line behind her.

"I'm so happy for you," the man replied sarcastically.

"Thank you, but I won't be needing a phone," Paris told the salesgirl as Tammy pulled her out of line and out the door, ignoring the angry glares of the customers they had been holding up.

"What was that all about?" Tammy asked when they were in the car.

"Nothing," Paris smiled. "I just think maybe me and my dad are gonna be OK."

Tammy dropped Paris off at her house with a promise that she would return at 8 AM sharp to pick Paris up for her physical. The black Durango was once again in the driveway and when Paris entered the house, she heard Adam's shower running. God, the man seemed to shower a lot. Picking up her purchases, she went upstairs to the loft and began unpacking. About an hour later, she was almost finished getting settled when Adam called up the stairs that he had ordered Chinese takeout. Paris' stomach grumbled, the salad she had earlier having already served its purpose for the moment. She descended the stairs and saw Adam stretched out on the recliner. There were several cartons of Chinese food on the tall marble coffee table and Monday Night RAW was just starting. Adam smiled as Paris sat down on the couch and helped herself to some broccoli beef and wontons. Paris noticed that he was shirtless, just like he had been earlier, and there were a couple of times where she had to stop herself from staring. She got the feeling that Adam noticed every time and found her uneasiness amusing.

RAW turned out to be rather exciting and Paris found herself relaxing as Adam made both informative and humorous comments during the show. Paris was relieved that her first evening with her new roommate hadn't turned into the third degree, even though she intended to give Adam a little of the old Q and A at a later date regarding the nature of his relationship with Paul Levesque. The last thing she needed was someone reporting her every move to The Cerebral Assassin.

They watched the show intently as JR defeated Coach to regain him and the King's announcing duties, Scott Steiner turned on Stacy Keibler, The Hurricane and Rosey (S.H.I.T.) prevented Kane from attacking a child in the crowd, and Trish saved Lita from a double team by Molly Holly and Gail Kim, only to be jumped by Victoria. Paris was on the edge of her seat, wishing she was there and fully trained so she could help her friends even the odds. Triple H dropped a bombshell by placing a 100,000 dollar bounty on Goldberg's head and Paris' heart contracted as she watched Randy team with Ric against Goldberg and Shawn Michaels. Adam scrutinized her intensely yet discreetly, observing the pain that flickered across her beautiful face every time the camera settled on The Legend Killer. The show ended with Rob Van Dam winning the Intercontinental title from Christian in a ladder match, and Paris smiled with satisfaction, knowing that in a few short months, Randy would be wearing that belt around his chiseled waist. As the show ended, Paris rose and stretched languidly.

"I have a physical early tomorrow, so I'm gonna take a hot bath and turn in," she said. "Sorry I was so engrossed in the show that we didn't get to chat much."

Adam scoffed, waving his hand. "We have plenty of time to get to know each other." And I plan on knowing everything, he told himself, smirking inwardly.

"Well, goodnight…oh, Adam, can I ask you something?" Now was as good of time as any, she figured.

"Sure," he replied, shrugging.

"How well do you know Paul Levesque? I mean, are you guys good friends?"

Adam shrugged once again, feigning nonchalance. So someone had spilled the beans about his friendship with Paul. Damn Tammy to hell, he thought.

"I know him about as well as anyone," the blond Canadian replied. "He likes my style so he's kind of taken me under his wing a little bit, but I won't join Evolution. I'm not into the group thing. As far as friends go, yeah, I guess he's my friend, but we don't hang out or anything. Why?"

Paris shook her head. "I'll explain everything some other time…I promise, but I just don't want anyone reporting my activities to Paul. The less he knows about me, the better."

"Fair enough," Adam told her. "Besides, I'm not the messenger boy, OK?" He grinned toothily. He was grateful for all of Paul's information, but he really was being honest with Paris about their relationship. They were friends, but not close friends. As far as Adam was concerned, Paul didn't need to know anything further about Paris. She was out of his life and her activities were none of his concern. Adam's interest in Paris was totally personal and he really didn't need Paul's help in achieving what he hoped to with in the next week or two.

"Thanks," Paris replied, not entirely sure yet whether she could trust him or not. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything about Paul, but she thought it was best to have it out in the open right away that she wanted nothing to do with the arrogant former World champion. "Well…goodnight…again."

"Goodnight, Paris. Oh, hey…I forgot to tell Tammy, Jeff's plane is coming in tomorrow morning instead of tomorrow afternoon, so I'm gonna pick him up…will you pass that on for me?"

"Sure…Tammy's got a pretty tight schedule tomorrow, mostly because of me, so I'm sure she won't mind."

"You get some rest, OK?"

Paris nodded and began to head upstairs when the phone rang.

"Hello?" she heard Adam answer. "Just a second…Paris? It's for you."

Paris rolled her eyes, exhaustion threatening to overcome her, and mouthed the words 'who is it' to Adam.

"Who's calling please?" Adam requested, his eyebrows shooting up when he heard the response.

"It's Dave Batista," he told Paris, holding out the phone.

Paris sighed, grabbing the phone.

"Hi, Dave," she greeted weakly.

The Animal of Evolution cleared his throat. "Paris, how are you?"

"I'm good…tired but good."

"Well, I won't keep you. I just wanted to apologize…for everything…the bet, Paul, all of it. I'm not really like that and…"

"Dave, it's OK…I forgive you."

Adam rolled his eyes as he stared at the TV. Good grief, cry me a river, he thought.

"You do?"

"Of course. Amy loves you and I trust her judgment."

"Thanks, Paris."

There was an awkward silence during which Paris heard a familiar male voice in the background.

"Was that Randy?" she asked.

"Yep."

"How is he?"

"He's been better," Dave replied honestly. "Hey, Amy wants to talk to you."

"OK, take care…and good luck with your return to TV."

The Enforcer thanked her again before passing the phone to the Queen of Xtreme.

"Fuckette…how are you?" Amy's musical voice echoed.

Paris smiled, her best friend's voice comforting. "I'm fine."

"Did you meet Tammy?"

"Yeah, she's great, except thank you very much for telling her everything."

"I was only looking out for you. Better she hear the truth from me than the digitally remastered version from Sarah."

"Is everyone talking about me?"

Amy sighed. "It's pretty much all over the locker room. But your true friends know the truth."

Paris closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "And what's Paul saying?"

"He's not saying much, especially after Randy punched him in the mouth this morning."

"What!"

"Yeah, after you left the hotel. And then, Amanda just got suspended without pay for a week because she smacked that new girl, Rebecca, upside the head for calling you a whore."

"Oh, great!"

"Shane didn't want to do it because he personally thought it was well-deserved, but he can't play favorites. Amanda's coordinating for Matt this week, so I'm sure he'll take care of her if she needs money or anything. They're really a cute couple. Did you see my interview tonight?"

"I did," Paris answered, relieved that the subject had been changed. She didn't like to think about people getting in trouble over her. "I wish I had been there. Could you imagine…you, me, and Trish as a team?"

"I shudder to think of the damage we could do," Amy laughed.

"More than we could do to a bottle of tequila?"

Amy laughed harder. "God, I miss you already."

"I miss you, too. Jeff's arriving in the morning…did you know Tammy likes him?"

"Good, it's about time she got over Brock."

"And hey, guess what?"

"What?"

"Don't say anything to Cena if you see him, but Katie's quitting. She's moving back to New York on Friday."

"Why?"

"Her mom has cancer and it's bad I guess."

"Honestly, I think John might be relieved."

"I agree, but…"

"I know…you can't say that, of course."

"Maybe he and Dawn will get together."

"I don't know," Amy mused. "The little shit won't tell me, but I know that he likes someone and it's not Dawn. Dawn's never going to get over her immature little fantasy with RVD."

Paris snorted. "God, what is it about him? First, you and me, and now, Dawn?"

"Dawn's had a thing for him ever since ECW, but he treated her pretty much like he did me. Of course, he was married at the time."

"He's still an ass."

"True. Hey, Paris, I hate to go, but Dave's urging me out the door."

"I understand. I need to go to bed. Visit soon and…and…"

"And what?"

Paris sighed. "Say hi to RKO for me, will you?"

"I will…and Paris…watch out for…Adam…" the line began to crackle and break with static.

"What did you say? Amy, you're breaking up…"

But it was too late…the line went dead. Paris figured they had gone into the car port and she had lost reception or something. She gave Adam a wary glance as he surfed through channels. What did Amy mean by watch out for him? The last thing she needed was more problems and more drama.

Sighing, Paris went upstairs and deciding to forego a bath, collapsed onto her bed in utter exhaustion. She knew that 8 AM would be arriving too soon.

**Hello, everyone. Please read and review. Sorry this chapter was so long and maybe a little boring, but I had to lay some groundwork for future events. Hugs…**

**-Evilution**


	3. Extreme Arrival

Chapter 3 – Extreme Arrival

By Evilution

Disclaimer: All characters belong to WWE or themselves, except for Paris, Tammy, Katie, and Amanda. I don't own any of the places or people mentioned. Most of the minor characters, i.e. the doctor, etc. are based on friends of mine, but they won't mind, I'm sure. Don't sue—I'm broke…at least until I get my taxes back and then, one trip to Old Navy later…I'll be broke again.

The next morning, Paris awoke to sunlight streaming in her face. She glanced at the clock. It was 7:45 AM! She only had fifteen minutes to shower and get dressed before Tammy arrived! Flying into the bathroom, Paris quickly showered and washed her hair before throwing on a pair of her new track pants and a white baby tee. Leaving her hair damp, she rushed downstairs to see Tammy sitting on the couch, drinking a cup of coffee.

"Sorry…I overslept."

"It's OK…I just got here. Adam told me about Jeff, so that's one thing we can cross off our lists. How's the eyebrow?"

"Good…a little sore, but no biggie."

"Are you ready?"

Paris nodded and followed Tammy out to her car. The Durango was gone, so Paris assumed that Adam had gone to pick up Jeff. She noticed that Tammy's attire was a little more casual today, the executive assistant opting for Silver jeans and a black blouse with matching Doc Martins. Tammy pulled her car into the parking lot of a medical complex and Paris followed her into the pristine doctor's office. After filling out some forms and having her weight, temperature, and blood pressure taken by a nurse, Paris waited patiently for the doctor in the cold examination room, wearing nothing but a backless gown and a nervous expression on her face.

After about fifteen minutes, the doctor entered—an attractive woman with blond hair and a calm, pleasant expression.

"I'm Dr. Cerovski," the physician stated, shaking Paris' hand. "I'm OVW's official physician for the female wrestlers and divas. And you're Tammy's new diva?"

"Yes, ma'am…I mean, Doctor."

Dr. Cerovski smiled as she opened Paris file and made some notes.

"So, Paris, you're twenty years old?"

"Yes."

"Well, why don't we get your breast exam and pelvic out of the way first since it's the most uncomfortable and then, we'll finish up your physical. Go ahead and lie back, and try to relax, OK?"

Paris nodded as she lay back on the examination table and the doctor began checking her breasts.

"Do you have implants?" Dr. Cerovski questioned after several minutes.

"Yes."

"Any problems with them?"

"No."

"Good. Be extra vigilant about leaks and things like that, especially now that you're going to be wrestling and exposed to more physicality. I'm also checking your lymph glands and everything feels OK there. Go ahead and put your feet in the stirrups for me."

Paris complied, feeling more than a little embarrassed and vulnerable. Dr. Cerovski, being the professional she was, noticed Paris' unease and did her best to help the young diva relax.

"Have you ever had a gynecological exam before, Paris?" the doctor asked, putting on gloves.

"No."

Dr. Cerovski nodded and began to explain exactly what the exam entailed. Paris listened intently, the doctor's kind voice putting her at ease. As Dr. Cerovski began the exam, she made a point to keep the conversation flowing so that Paris was able to focus more on talking and less on her own discomfort.

"Is there any particular reason why you've never had an exam before?"

"Well, I'm not on birth control and I've never had…" Paris paused, feeling embarrassed.

"Go on…"

"I'm a virgin…I mean…at least, I was…up until…"

"When was the last time you had intercourse?" the doctor asked, looking up.

"Umm…Sunday night."

"I see…and you were a virgin up until this point?"

"Yes."

"Did you use protection?"

Paris flushed a deep red. "N…no."

"Paris, do you understand the importance of protected sex in this day and age?"

"Yes, Doctor, I do, but…"

Paris' voice trailed off, mainly because she didn't really have an excuse for being careless. Dr. Cerovski finished the exam and removing her gloves, instructed Paris to sit up.

"This next question is very personal, Paris," the doctor began, looking at her earnestly. "But I need an answer so I know how to go about counseling you…you're more than welcome to tell me that it's none of my business, but I assure you, I'm your doctor now and it's in the strictest confidence."

"OK."

"Which one of Vince's bad boys did you lose your virginity to?"

Paris blushed once again, this time an even deeper red. She didn't really want to answer the question, but she knew that Dr. Cerovski wasn't asking to be nosy and for some reason, she trusted the woman.

"Umm…Paul Levesque."

Dr. Cerovski's eyebrows shot up, but she remained calm. She'd been working for Vince McMahon and Jim Cornette for close to ten years and from her experience and what she had heard around the locker room, it wasn't really in Paul Levesque's nature to go around deflowering twenty year old virgins. However, Paris was extraordinarily beautiful. It was no surprise to Dr. Cerovski that she had attracted the most powerful wrestler in the company. After several moments, the kind doctor cleared her throat.

"I guess your reputation as a Vegas glamour girl precedes you, Paris. You believe in going right to the top, don't you?"

Paris blinked, surprised that a doctor would make such a remark. However, she knew in her heart that it was true and any self-effacing defense would have made her appear just a little self-righteous.

"I'm only kidding," Dr. Cerovski stated briskly, noticing the look on Paris' face. "Sorry, but I have somewhat of a dry sense of humor. I didn't mean to offend you, OK?"

Paris shook her head. "I…I'm not offended. I really don't have any defense. I'm not exactly proud of what I did."

"He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No, nothing like that. I…I just thought that…well, I guess that I always pictured my first time being with someone I love…"

"And you're not in love with Paul Levesque?"

Paris snorted. "Far from it. In fact, I hate his guts."

Dr. Cerovski smiled. "I've heard he has that effect on people. And how does he feel about you?"

"I was nothing more than a conquest."

"You're sure about that?"

Paris gave the doctor a withering glance that spoke volumes and then, she looked at the ground. She didn't mean to come off so cynical.

"So, tell me, Paris," Dr. Cerovski went on, shifting gears. "Is there someone you are in love with?"

Paris shrugged. "Not really. I mean, yeah, but we can't be together."

"Anyone I know?"

Paris hesitated slightly before answering. "Randy Orton."

"Ah…RKO himself, huh?"

Paris nodded as Dr. Cerovski smiled once again and closed Paris' chart.

"Well, speaking from what I've heard about Paul Levesque, I don't really think you need to worry about STDs in this case, but I'll run a full screen just to be sure. And when the nurse draws your blood for your physical, we'll run an HIV, too."

"What exactly have you heard about him?" Paris inquired, curious. She was trying to hide how nervous she was at the mention of HIV.

Dr. Cerovski shrugged. "I've just heard that he's not the ring rat type. He's very discriminating about who he…associates with. He's a wealthy, powerful guy, who just happened to date Stephanie McMahon for two years…and he's not stupid either. That's why I'm so baffled about his carelessness with protection. It's just not in his character. Maybe you brought out something in him that he just lost control."

Paris snorted once again, her cynicism resurfacing. "I hate to seem rude, Doctor, but I highly doubt it. Paul Levesque never loses control of anything. He's cold, calculating, and in control of everything around him at all times. I really doubt that someone as insignificant as I am would cause him to act out of character."

Dr. Cerovski cocked her eyebrow knowingly. "Be that as it may, he obviously saw something in you, or he wouldn't have even bothered."

"Yeah, he saw the opportunity to get laid…end of story," Paris stated dryly, her lips twisting into a sarcastic smile. "Can we get on with my physical please? I don't mean to be rude, but I really have to go to the bathroom."

"Of course," Dr. Cerovski replied, somewhat saddened that the diva seemed so cold and callous at such a young age. "In fact, that's just what we need you to do is go to the bathroom."

Paris nodded solemnly as she took the cup from Dr. Cerovski and went into the restroom. The rest of the examination went by quickly and painlessly, except for the blood draw. Dr. Cerovski made pleasant conversation, steering clear of the subject of Paul Levesque, and Paris answered her other questions openly and honestly, their earlier tension long forgotten. Finally, the ordeal was over and Paris waited along with Tammy in Dr. Cerovski's office for the final verdict. Both women jumped slightly when the door opened and the doctor entered.

"Well, Paris, you're in extraordinarily good health," Dr. Cerovski began as she seated herself at her desk and flipped through various pages of Paris' file. "The only thing that showed up in your blood work is that your iron is a little low, so I want you to start taking a multi-vitamin with iron to supplement your diet. Your pregnancy test was negative and your STD screen was clear, but I would recommend a follow-up HIV test in six months…nothing to worry you, but that's standard anyway."

Paris breathed a sigh of relief and glanced over at Tammy, who looked as if she was doing the same thing.

"As for birth control," Dr. Cerovski continued. "I'd like to try the Depo Provera shot on you. You're going to be very busy with your training, perhaps too busy to remember to take pills. I usually don't use the shot on girls your age because it tends to make you gain weight and break out. However, since you'll be active with your training, I don't think weight gain will be a problem. If you break out, just use an anti-acne scrub twice a day, alright?"

"Are you sure that's the best thing for her, Candice?" Tammy interjected. "I mean, speaking from personal experience…"

"In this situation, yes," Dr. Cerovski replied. "I know you had bad luck with the shot, Tammy, but everyone's different."

Tammy nodded as Paris glanced back and forth between her and the doctor.

"After a couple months, your period should become like clockwork," Dr. Cerovski went on. "You may have some spotting at first, but it's nothing to worry about. You come in every three months and it costs about eighty-five dollars. However, it doesn't protect against STDs. If you're sexually active, I recommend using condoms."

"Yes, I will. Thanks, Dr. Cerovski."

"My nurse will take you back to the exam room for your shot. Any questions?"

Paris and Tammy both shook their heads as Dr. Cerovski handed Paris a card.

"Please call me if you have any questions and please come in if you experience any abdominal pain, fever, cramps, heavy bleeding…anything out of the ordinary, OK? Have a nice day, ladies."

"Candice, thanks again for seeing us on such short notice," Tammy stated as the kind doctor bid them good day.

Tammy waited while Paris got her shot and then, paid the cashier with her company credit card. While she was signing the forms, Paris took the opportunity to grab a few condoms out of the basket on the desk and stuff them in her purse. Tammy smirked as they exited the complex, teasing Paris about taking so many.

"I only took, like, ten," Paris retorted. "Besides, it said help yourself."

Tammy laughed as they jumped into her car and she practically flew across town, arriving at the salon just in time for Paris' appointment. Paris sat quietly in the chair as Tammy and Lori, the stylist, discussed several new looks. In the end, it was decided to give Paris a layered cut, keeping her length just below her chin, touching up her platinum blond highlights, and putting a small streak of burgundy on her front left side. As Lori worked, Tammy sat in an unoccupied stylist chair and chatted with her new charge.

"You might want to take those out," the executive assistant commented as Lori combed Paris' hair back from her ears.

"What?"

"Your cartilage and your trachis piercings," Tammy said. "They go with your look really well, but what with headlocks and head scissors and hurricanranas…it's just not a good idea. I don't mean to be bossy, but in a business where people have been known to lose a whole ear with the wrong move…I just think it would be best if you took them out. You can't see them with your hair anyway."

"I suppose you're right," Paris replied as she reached up and removed the ring from her left cartilage and the other one from her right trachis. "The last thing I want to do is lose an ear. They've kind of been annoying me lately anyway. Will you throw these in my bag?" Paris handed the rings to the executive assistant, who wrapped them in a tissue and put them in the diva's purse.

"Normally, I'd be against any facial piercings," Tammy went on. "But Casey put your eyebrow in deep enough, so it shouldn't be a problem, and as long as you keep your nose screw tiny and flat, you should be OK. I think it would be best if you get a plastic bar for your tongue. When you're taking shots to the head and face, a metal one is kind of rough on your teeth and gums. Anything below the neck, I don't want to know about it…it's highly unlikely that would be an issue in the ring."

"Could you ladies please change the subject?" Lori quipped. "It's freaking me out just thinking about it."

"If you want freaky," Paris said. "I know a certain wrestler who has a Prince Albert."

Tammy's eyes got wide as Lori looked confused.

"What the hell is a Prince Albert?" the stylist questioned.

"It's a piercing through the tip of a guy's dick," Tammy explained. "Tell me who it is right now, Paris!"

"I can't," Paris replied. "I mean I could tell you, but then, I'd have to kill you."

"Is it Trips?" Tammy went on. "God, I knew it! I knew he was a closet pervert!"

"It's not Paul."

"Not Randy," Tammy exclaimed. "No way. Orton's not the type."

"It's not Randy either. Mind you, I've never personally seen this particular accessory, but I have heard about it in great detail from the guy's girlfriend, and he very generously offered to show it to me in exchange for copping a look at my nipple ring, but I declined thank you very much."

Tammy thought for a moment, her blue eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Hmm…whose girlfriend are you chummy with? Oh my God, it's Jericho, isn't it? I can just picture Trish going on and on about something like that."

"Please. Could you imagine Jericho having his dick pierced?" Paris asked mockingly. "He's high-strung enough as it is."

"Hmm…Rob Van Dam?"

"Don't know, don't want to know."

Tammy sighed. "I give up…who is it?"

"Shane McMahon," Paris replied, smirking.

Tammy chuckled. "Bullshit. Come on, Paris…"

"OK, fine…it's Dave Batista."

"So…Dave Batista," Tammy remarked. "As if he needs any enhancement in that area. I guess we can both agree that Little Miss Li Li is quite the lucky woman."

"How do you know?" Paris commented.

"I hear things. And besides, I make it a point to know everything about all OVW alumni. Batista wrestled here for a few years before he went to the WWE. He was here even before I started. He was known as Leviathan…the Demon of the Deep, the star attraction in the Disciples of Synn."

"Dave was in the DoS?"

"Oh, yeah. Synn was quite enamored with him, until Seven came along. And she got so consumed in her feud with Nidia that she totally ignored his needs. He was trying to get the OVW title back from the Prototype, who stole it from him through illegal means. Do you think Synn cared? No…all she wanted was to destroy Nidia."

"The Prototype? That's Cena, right?"

"Yeah, he was Kenny Bolin's right hand man…him and Sean O'Haire."

"Sean O'Haire? Where have I heard that name before?" Paris commented, her brow furrowing in thought. "Oh, yeah, Amy mentioned him once."

Tammy smirked, toying with some imaginary lint on her jeans. "Yeah, Sean's a fun guy. Lots of fun."

Paris cocked her eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"I've dated Sean off and on for the past two years or so," Tammy stated. "We dated briefly before I started seeing Brock. During that year or so that Brock and I were both here, we had a lot of problems. We fought a lot. Sean was always there when I needed him. To this day, he's always there when I need him."

"So why don't you two get together?" Paris asked.

Tammy shook her head. "It's not like that. I mean, Sean's always there when I need him and he's a good friend and he's great in bed, but we just don't have that kind of a relationship. I know too much about him to ever trust him and he's not really the commitment type, if you know what I mean."

"But do you love him?"

"I care about him and I know he cares about me, but love?...no, nothing like that. He's happy I'm not with Brock anymore though."

"He didn't like Brock?"

"Hated him with a passion. Brock isn't known for getting along with others. It was amazing that he and Shelton stayed a team so long, but then again, Shelton's easy-going and gets along with everyone."

"So what were Dave and Randy and Cena like when they were here?" Paris inquired, curiously.

Tammy thought for a moment. "Dave was really quiet, kept to himself. He was one of the only members of the DoS that didn't take his character outside the ring. In the ring, he was the Demon of the Deep, but when he left, he was just Dave Batista. He wasn't friends with Synn or Damien or BJ Payne. He definitely had no use for Seven and Bane. The only person I ever really saw him pal around with was Charlie Haas. I heard he got divorced shortly after coming here, but that was before my time. As for Orton and Cena…what can I say? I'm not sure you really want to hear what I have to say about those two."

"Please go on," Paris urged. "I'm mesmerized by this story."

Tammy sighed. "Orton and Cena and Jindrak…probably the cockiest, most arrogant trio of prima donnas that ever set foot in OVW. Cena thought he was God's gift to wrestling, until he got knocked down a few notches by Leviathan and Nova. I really didn't have a lot of hope for John, but then, he met Katie and he seemed to do a total one eighty. His wrestling improved, his attitude got better…Jim and Danny and I were actually proud to recommend him to Vince and Shane for a call up. Orton was a star from the moment he got here and he knew that he was gonna be an even bigger star in the WWE. I mean, come on…he's Cowboy Bob Orton's son, right? The problem with Randy was that he never thought he had to work at it. He was more concerned with getting laid and hanging out in strip clubs with Jindrak and Cena than he was with learning how to wrestle. Fortunately, it all came easy to Randy…he has so much raw talent that he really didn't have to work hard at it…it just came naturally. Too bad a good attitude didn't come naturally as well. Sorry, Paris…I know you're in love with him and everything, but that's how I know Randy Orton and that's how I remember him. I wish he had made a better first impression, but he didn't."

Paris was silent for a moment, trying to absorb everything Tammy had said. It didn't sound like the executive assistant was very fond of The Legend Killer, and with good reason. Apparently, Randy had established quite the reputation for himself when he had been in OVW. Deciding that she didn't want to discuss her ex-boyfriend any further, Paris switched gears and changed the subject.

"You mentioned someone named Danny," she said. "Who's that?"

"Danny Davis," Tammy replied. "He's the co-owner of OVW, along with Jim. He's also Doug Basham's uncle and a hell of a nice guy. He's on vacation at the moment, but you'll meet him when he comes back in a couple weeks."

Paris nodded as Lori informed her that she was finished putting on the color and it was time to go under the dryer. Paris read a magazine while her hair color set and Tammy took the opportunity to go outside and check her messages. When Paris came out from under the dryer, there was an iced latte waiting for her from Tammy, who had run across the street for a quick caffeine fix.

"Did you ever get the chance to talk to Adam last night?" Tammy questioned, sipping her coffee.

"Not really. We just watched RAW and then, Dave called."

"Dave Batista?"

"The one and only.

"What'd he want?"

"Just to apologize about the bet and everything," Paris explained. "And then, I talked to Amy. I guess I left a lot of drama in my wake."

"Why? What happened?"

"Well, first, Randy cracked Paul in the mouth yesterday after I left and then, my friend, Amanda, got suspended for punching some girl who called me a whore."

"Who'd she punch?" Tammy asked.

"Some bitch named Rebecca. She's one of Sarah's cronies."

"Damn, I was hoping she punched Sarah."

"You and me both," Paris said as she laughed dryly.

Lori finished Paris' haircut and then, washed and styled her hair. Half an hour later, the new diva and the executive assistant left the salon very pleased with Paris' new look. After grabbing some lunch, Tammy took Paris to several trendy shops where she picked out various items of clothing from a list that Katie had given her. Many of the garments were similar in style to what Amy wore, which was fine by Paris. She loved Amy's look and was flattered that Tammy was confident enough in her to pull off an extreme look. The more clothes they picked out, the more Paris pictured herself actually becoming Nikki Midnight. She had dreamed about it and imagined it, but now, it was a reality, and she could hardly wait to walk to the ring, if not just to show off her new look.

She smiled as she observed the scenery on the way to Trax South, occasionally stealing a glance in the side mirror at her new do.

When they got to the training complex, Tammy and Paris, who were each loaded down with several bags, hurried into the gym, where they quickly greeted the Tough Enough guys before rushing off to wardrobe. Katie ushered them into her rooms, ecstatic that they had found so many of the things on her list. Behind the closed doors of Katie's private rooms and in the greatest of secrecy, Paris' new look began to take shape.

Meanwhile, Adam Copeland's gray eyes scanned the airport trying to spot the multi-colored hair of his friend and future partner, Jeff Hardy. Just as he was about to resign himself that the plane was late, he noticed the King of Xtreme wandering aimlessly down the stairs. He shook his head…Jeff always marched to his own drum. That was why people usually thought he was stoned or something, even though Jeff never did drugs and rarely touched alcohol.

"Jeffro!" Adam called, waving.

Jeff glanced up and waved back as he descended the stairs and grabbed Adam in a manly hug. Adam stepped back and quickly sized up the younger Hardy brother, noticing that he was in the best shape of his life. His clothes even seemed to fit better rather than just hanging on him like they had done before he left the WWE. When they had hugged, Adam could feel the muscles in Jeff's upper body and he knew that the Hardy boy was serious about his return to the ring.

"Adam!" Jeff exclaimed. "Damn, man, you look great. How's the neck?"

"Better than ever," the blond Canadian replied. "I see you've been staying in shape."

Jeff shrugged. "Not much else to do."

"Come on," Adam urged, shouldering one of Jeff's bags. "I wanna take you by the house first. Then, if you want, we can grab some lunch and head to Trax South this afternoon. Cornette's most anxious to see you."

"I'm sure," Jeff quipped, following his friend to the black Durango where he loaded his bags into the back.

"Tight ride," Jeff commented, once they were on the freeway.

"It's partly yours," Adam replied, handing Jeff a set of keys, which also included keys to the house and the gym. "We're all sharing it…me, you, Paris, and this Mizanin guy."

"Have you met Paris?" Jeff asked.

"Yeah, but I haven't had much of a chance to talk to her."

"What do you think of her?"

"Do you really want to know?" Adam retorted with a wicked grin.

"From you, not really. But I have a feeling you're gonna tell me anyway," Jeff replied dryly.

"I will have her," Adam stated confidently. "Within the week."

"Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"Hey, she gave it up for Levesque and I'm enormously smoother than he is."

Jeff blinked. This was new. Last he'd heard from both Amy and Matt, Paris was firmly entrenched in a romance with Randy Orton. Although he didn't think Randy Orton was the best person Paris could have chosen, he was considerably more tolerable than Paul Levesque.

"Paul Levesque?" Jeff questioned. "I was under the impression she was with Randy Orton."

"Yeah, well, Randy Orton fucked up…big time," Adam commented. "He pretty much gift-wrapped her for Paul, the stupid ass…Randy, I mean."

"I'm confused."

"Ask Amy for the details. It's really not my place to spread gossip, but let's just say Orton dropped the ball and Paul picked it up."

"And ran with it, right?"

"You know Paul."

"Unfortunately."

Adam sighed. "He's not that bad."

"Look, Adam, I know he's your friend, even though I can't fathom why."

"Hey, Jeff, can I at least count on you to not give me any competition where Paris is concerned?"

Jeff held up his hands in concession. "She's not really my type. Besides, I'm more interested in getting to know Tammy Petersen better."

"Adam snorted. "I hope you brought your winter coat."

"Why's that?"

"You're gonna need it if you plan on cozying up to OVW's Ice Queen."

"I've heard she's nice…and funny. Amy told me I should check into it."

"Well, I suppose she's nice enough, but as far as warmth and emotion goes…well, just picture Alannah, only worse."

"Brr!" Jeff joked sarcastically, not entirely sure that Adam's assessment of Tammy Petersen was accurate.

"Don't say I didn't warn you, man."

Jeff chuckled good-naturedly as Adam made a left turn and maneuvered the Durango into a parking lot in front of a huge training complex. This must be Trax South, Jeff thought. WWE…here I come…again, he told himself with confidence.

Back at Trax…

"I talked to John today," Katie remarked absently as Paris struggled into a neon green T-shirt and Tammy pinned the waist of her cargo pants to fit Paris' tiny waist.

"And?" Tammy and Paris urged simultaneously.

Katie shrugged. "He was disappointed, but admitted that he saw it coming. He said he'd always care about me and to stay in touch because he'd always be my friend." She wiped away some stray tears that rolled down her cheeks.

"Oh, sweetie," Tammy said as she enveloped Katie in a motherly hug and the younger woman began sobbing piteously against her shoulder. Paris' heart tightened as she placed a gentle hand on Katie's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," the designer said, wiping her face and trying to compose herself.

"No one said this would be easy," Tammy told her.

"But John's such a great guy," Katie went on. "What's wrong with me because I don't love him enough to stay?"

"Katie, honey, we can't control who we fall in love with…or who we don't," Tammy assured her.

"Or who does or doesn't fall in love with us," Paris added.

Katie grabbed a tissue and daintily blew her nose. As she was wiping her face, her aqua green eyes suddenly lit up like stars.

"I just had a brilliant idea," the designer declared. "Paris, you should get together with John!"

"What!" Paris exclaimed. She had just taken a drink of soda and tried hard not to spit it all over the new outfit she was trying on.

"You'd be perfect for him," Katie continued. "You're pretty, smart, spirited…you could easily make him forget me and comfort him in the process."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Paris stated. "Me and Cena? I'd strangle him within a week!"

"Besides," Tammy interjected. "Between Puder and Adam panting after her, not to mention the 'Evolutionary' war going on between Orton and Levesque…I think Paris has enough on her plate when it comes to men, don't you? Plus, I don't want her to get distracted."

"I suppose you're right," Katie said, deflated. Paris noticed that the designer hadn't batted an eye when Tammy mentioned Paul Levesque. Obviously, Katie was also well-informed of Paris' past indiscretions. It was nice of her to not say anything. "But I want both of you to promise me that if he needs a friend, you'll be there," Katie urged.

Tammy rolled her eyes. "I hardly think Cena would find solace in us. He's got his own friends. I'm sure Orton and Jindrak will be there to get him drunk and take him to the titty bar."

"Just promise, OK?" Katie insisted.

"OK, fine…I promise," Tammy conceded.

"Paris?"

"I promise."

"Good," Katie sighed. "Now, I can go to New York with a clear conscience, knowing John will be OK."

Paris and Tammy both thanked Katie for all of her hard work and headed off to Tammy's office where the executive assistant gave Paris some three-ring binders that contained pages and pages of wrestling history. Tammy set Paris up at a table in a small office and left her to study while she went to finish up some work with Jim.

A couple hours later, Paris leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes, feeling the strain from so much reading. She'd made it a little over halfway through one of the volumes that talked about WWE during the Rock and Wrestling Era of the 80s. She heard familiar voices in the hallway, so she got up to stretch her legs and look around. She noticed Jeff and Adam receiving somewhat of a reprimand from Tammy.

"Where have you guys been all day?" Tammy asked, impatiently looking at her watch. "Jeff's plane got in at ten o'clock…I wanted you to see Jim, but he's left for the day."

"I'm sorry," Jeff stated sincerely. "We were just catching up. I didn't mean to cause you stress." His green eyes twinkled as he leaned over and kissed the back of Tammy's hand.

Paris watched with amusement as the usually cool and composed executive assistant practically melted under the younger Hardy's intense gaze.

"Well…I…I guess you can see Jim tomorrow. I just…I mean, of course, you guys needed to catch up and everything. It's been months since you've seen each other…Paris!"

Paris jumped as Tammy glanced in her direction and practically shrieked her name, apparently thankful for the interruption as Jeff's flirting had undoubtedly unnerved her.

"Hey," Paris greeted, approaching the small group.

"Paris," Jeff said, unexpectedly wrapping her in a huge hug. "Wicked hair, by the way. How've you been?"

"Thanks…I've been good. How bout you?"

"Anxious to get back in the ring. How's Matt doing? I haven't seen him since…well, since the night I met you."

"Well, you know Matt and I aren't that close, but he's dating my friend, Amanda."

"What? What about Ames?"

Paris shrugged. "They broke up. She's with Dave Batista now."

"Dave Batista? Is she insane?" Jeff exclaimed.

"Come on, Jeff," Paris scolded lightly. "Dave's a nice guy. Not everyone in Evolution is like Paul."

Jeff nodded as Adam gave him a sidelong glance, unobserved by Paris and Tammy, who were busy chatting.

"Hey, I hate to break this up," Adam interrupted. "But I wanna show Jeff around and we have some things to take care of. Paris, we'll see you tonight and Tammy, I'll see you tomorrow at the taping."

Tammy nodded before casting a shy smile at Jeff. "See ya around, Jeff."

Jeff smiled back, his eyes twinkling once again. "I'm counting on it…in fact, why don't we all go out Friday…you know, to get to know each other better?"

"That sounds like fun," Paris put in as Tammy and Adam nodded in agreement.

"Bye, Jeff," Tammy said flirtatiously.

"Bye, Ms. Petersen…I mean, Tammy."

Adam rolled his eyes as he pulled Jeff around the corner, teasing him incessantly about getting a room.

"Seriously, man, that's the warmest display of emotion I've ever seen her exhibit," the tall Canadian remarked after the youngest Hardy jokingly told him to shove it.

"Oh my God, Paris!" Tammy hissed after the guys had left. "I think he was flirting with me."

Paris snorted. "Hello…ya think?"

"What if he likes me?"

"Would that be such a stretch?" Paris asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, no, but isn't that weird? I mean, not weird weird, but I've liked him for so long. That's just insane if he likes me, too."

"Stranger things have happened," Paris remarked.

"You have to find out for me," Tammy urged.

"Why me?"

"Because you live with him…and you said you'd help."

"OK, fine…I'll do a little probing tonight. Oh, I forgot to tell you…I interrogated Adam about Paul. Turns out they're not that close."

"Is that what Adam told you?"

"Yeah."

"Well, don't be too sure. I know for a fact that they're closer than either one of them lets on."

Paris' brow furrowed. She tended to believe Tammy first, but why would Adam lie? Unfortunately, she didn't have time to analyze it because just as she and Tammy rounded the corner to the break room, they ran into a huge guy with wild, dark hair and intense, penetrating blue eyes. He was dressed all in black and had a tattoo of a spider on his arm, among others. He was about Dave's size and gave Paris a very thorough once-over before glancing at Tammy and turning on a blinding yet wicked smile.

"Hey, baby," he said, leaning over to give the executive assistant a kiss on the cheek. "Who's your sexy friend?" He grinned at Paris.

"This is Paris Ocean, the WWE's newest diva. Paris, this is Sean O'Haire, on again/off again Director of Security for Bolin Services."

"Nice to meet you," Paris said, extending her hand.

Sean placed a soft, burning kiss on the back of her hand, his blue eyes flashing mischievously. "Paris, it's a pleasure," he said.

"Where have you been the last few weeks?" Tammy asked, garnering his undivided attention once again.

"I took some independent shows," Sean explained. "Jim said it was OK, which is a sure sign that I'm probably getting my walking papers soon."

"Don't think that way, Sean."

"You'd tell me if you knew, right, Tammy?"

"Sean, your contract is good through March and after that, I don't know. You know that I can't…"

"I know…I'd never put you in that position, especially when there are so many other fun positions I'd like to put you in," he added, reverting back to being lascivious. "How about a drink tonight?"

Tammy glanced at her watch. "I have to be here till about six, so how about I just meet you at The Blue Bomb at six thirty?"

"Sounds good…bring your friend, too. The more, the merrier. Nice to meet you again, Paris," Sean remarked as he stepped between Paris and Tammy, deliberately brushing against the executive assistant as he passed.

"You, too," Paris said as he walked away. "What the hell…" she whispered to Tammy.

"I told you he was a fun guy."

"So you like Jeff, but you're going out with him?"

"I told you Sean's just a friend. He probably won't be here much longer anyway."

"Is he being fired?"

"His contract's up in March and we're…or I should say, WWE's not renewing it."

For the life of her, Paris couldn't figure out why the WWE wouldn't want to hold onto a guy who looked like Sean. In her opinion, he would have made an excellent addition to Evolution, possibly a partner for Dave. Obviously, there were other issues at hand or they wouldn't be letting him go.

"So you wanna go with me tonight?" Tammy asked, changing the subject. "I'm guessing Sean's up for a threesome."

"Excuse me?" Paris replied, almost choking on her soda. "You're joking, right?"

Tammy shook her head. "Nope, he's into that kind of thing."

"Well, I appreciate the offer, but I barely know him."

Tammy shrugged, smiling playfully. "Oh well, more for me then."

Paris gaped at her. "You're gonna sleep with him?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," Tammy remarked. "It probably won't go that far, but you never know."

"What about Jeff?"

"Sean knows I like him. He won't mind sharing my attention."

"Yeah, but Jeff might mind."

"Oh, I don't mean I'd hook up with both of them. Sean would understand if I got involved with someone else. Like I said, he's not the commitment type. But he is one of my best friends…I won't give that up for anyone."

"I don't mean give up your friends, but it might not be the best thing to sleep with him. But then again, I'm not one to judge."

Tammy waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, it's mostly talk with me and Sean anyway. I've waited too long to meet Mr. Hardy…I'm not about to screw that up. Sean's just gonna have to understand."

"Nevertheless, I think I'll take a rain check. I want to take some of my reading home and I'd like to get to know Jeff and Adam a little better."

"Fair enough," Tammy told her. "Why don't you take off for the day? You have a big day tomorrow with the TV taping and everything."

"Hey, thanks…should I come into Trax tomorrow?"

Tammy shook her head. "Nah, sleep in for a change. You can stop by if you need more books. Otherwise, just be at the New Davis Arena at three o'clock."

"Cool…see you tomorrow. Oh, crap! I don't have a ride home."

"I bet you can catch Adam and Jeff. If not, I'll drive you."

Paris waved goodbye to Tammy as she dashed down the hallway to the gym. She saw Adam and Jeff chatting with Big and some of the agents.

"Hey, guys," she said, trying to catch her breath. "Can I get a lift home?"

"Sure," Adam told her. "We're almost ready."

"Let me grab my stuff and I'll meet you out front."

Paris jogged back to the study room where she gathered up her purse, coat, and books. She bid Katie goodnight as she passed wardrobe and headed out to the SUV where Adam and Jeff were waiting.

Several moments later, Adam was pulling up in front of the house. The three roommates went inside and Paris took her things up to the loft. She noticed Jeff's luggage in Adam's room…apparently, he was sharing the huge master bedroom with the Canadian rather than staying in the tiny closet of a room down the hall. Paris had just come out of the bathroom when Adam called upstairs that he and Jeff were going grocery shopping and asked her if she wanted to go. Paris lamented how much reading she had to do and how tired she was, but she also knew she needed food. Grabbing her purse, she rushed down the stairs and followed Adam and Jeff out to the Durango. This time, Jeff climbed in the back seat and allowed Paris to ride shotgun with Adam.

"So what'd you do today, Miss Diva?" Adam asked as he pulled into traffic.

Paris opened her overhead mirror and put on some lip gloss, fluffing her hair absently. "Not much. My physical, got my hair done, went shopping—it was all pretty fun except the physical."

"Was your eyebrow pierced last night?" the blond Canadian said, looking at her questioningly.

"I had it done yesterday."

"Shit, I must have been tired last night cuz I didn't even notice."

"Do you guys think it looks OK?" Paris inquired, examining her reflection and poking her eyebrow jewelry lightly.

"I like it," Jeff said.

"Yeah, it's sexy," Adam put in, smiling.

"You think so?"

"Totally. Your nose piercing's cute, too. Do you have your tongue done?"

To answer his question, Paris stuck out her tongue and showed Adam the steel bar she had embedded in it.

Adam sighed. "I love you," he said with mock sincerity.

Paris laughed as Jeff rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, but I'm a sucker for a girl with a pierced tongue," Adam explained.

"Gee, I wonder why," Jeff remarked.

"Jeff has his belly button done, too," Adam commented, eyeing the sparkling jewel in Paris' navel that was just barely peeking out below her baby tee.

Paris glanced back at Jeff, who lifted his shirt slightly to show her the barbell in his navel.

"That's too cute!" Paris squealed. "You don't see that on guys very often."

"It's because he's gay," Adam joked.

"You weren't complaining when you were down there earlier," Jeff bantered.

"Oh yeah…funny," Adam retorted dryly, giving the Hardy brother a middle finger over his shoulder.

"I'm getting another tattoo tomorrow," Paris put in, remembering her appointment at The Silver Dragon."

"Really? Where?" Adam asked, eyeing her appreciatively.

"I haven't quite decided yet," Paris replied thoughtfully. "I have two tattoos picked out and depending on which one I pick, that will decide where I get it. Is it OK if I use the car tomorrow?"

"I need to go to Trax tomorrow morning," Jeff said. "Maybe you can drop me off before your appointment."

"I could do that," Paris agreed. "What about you, Adam? You need the car?"

Adam shook his head. "Maybe I'll tag along to your tattoo rendezvous…if you don't mind."

"The more, the merrier," Paris remarked, her thoughts instinctively reverting to Sean O'Haire and his earlier comment. "Hey, Adam…you've been here for a couple months now, right?"

"Something like that."

"What do you know about Sean O'Haire?"

Adam shrugged. "Not much really. He got the call up to SmackDown earlier this year, around the time I got hurt. They put him in all these videos where he'd challenge people to do crazy shit and then, when they agreed to do it, he'd say something like 'I'm not telling you anything you don't already know' or some shit like that. They ended up pairing him with Roddy Piper for a while. He just got sent back here a month or so ago."

Paris' brow furrowed. "I can't imagine a guy who looks like Sean not being a huge star."

"Looks aren't everything," Jeff stated. "You can have a million dollar body, but if you've got a ten cent brain to go with it…not saying that's the case with O'Haire cuz I hear he's a pretty smart guy, but still…the fucker stole my finisher. The Seanton Bomb…give me a break!"

"Rumor has it Mr. O'Haire doesn't play well with others," Adam said. "Unless, of course, you're Tammy Petersen and then, he plays just fine…maybe a little rough if you know what I mean. But hey…he's been cool to me. He mostly sticks with his Bolin Services cronies."

Paris flinched slightly, regretting that Adam had mentioned Tammy's association with Sean in front of Jeff. She was hoping Jeff hadn't heard or would let the comment pass, but unfortunately, that didn't happen.

"What do you mean…he plays well with Tammy?" Jeff queried. "Are they going out or something?"

"Nothing like that," Adam clarified. "He kept her company after Lesnar got the call. You know she dated Brock Lesnar, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know," Jeff replied quietly.

"O'Haire even skipped out on some house shows on SmackDown so he could fly down here and be with Tammy when Lesnar cheated on her."

Jeff nodded but didn't respond.

"If anything, it's just sex," Adam rambled on, oblivious to that fact his words seemed to be affecting Jeff greatly.

"OK, I get the picture!" Jeff snapped as Paris reached over and put a gentle hand on Adam's arm, giving him a look that said maybe they should change the subject.

Adam caught on and quickly started talking about their upcoming show schedule. This seemed to distract Jeff and by the time they pulled into the supermarket, he was back to his old self, joking and bantering as if nothing had happened. Paris figured the high-flying Hardy must really like OVW's executive assistant for him to react in such a manner. Thank God Adam didn't know Tammy had a date with Sean that night and inadvertently mentioned that. Paris didn't really think the blond Canadian intentionally meant to hurt Jeff with his comments. After all, they were close friends. Plus, Adam seemed to have been busy focusing on the road and just making idle chit chat, not really noticing the effect his words had on Jeff Hardy.

Inside the supermarket, Jeff immediately ditched Paris and Adam in favor of perusing the sugar aisle. Adam watched Paris intently as she chose various kinds of fresh fruit in the produce section.

"I didn't mean to hurt Jeff's feelings," the Canadian stated suddenly, appearing to read Paris' thoughts. "I know he likes Tammy, but I just didn't think. I was just making small talk."

"I didn't think you did it on purpose," Paris replied honestly, bagging some grapefruit.

"I love Jeff like a brother," Adam went on. "If there's something between Tammy and O'Haire, something that might cause Jeff to get hurt, I'd want to know about it."

Paris sighed. For some reason, she trusted Adam in this instance, if not just because of his protectiveness towards Jeff. "They're going out for drinks tonight," Paris told him. "But Tammy said they're just friends and she made it perfectly clear to Sean that she likes Jeff…"

Paris stopped suddenly, her violet eyes growing wide as Adam's face broke into a wicked grin.

"She likes Jeff?" the Canadian questioned.

"Yeah, but don't say anything," Paris whispered. "And don't mention O'Haire again, OK?"

"It's a deal on one condition…"

"Name it."

"You have to hang out with us tonight…me and Jeff."

"That's all?"

"Hey, we can get pretty rambunctious…"

Paris smirked. "I'll take my chances."

Adam laughed as he wheeled the cart off in search of Jeff, followed closely by Paris. About an hour later, the three new friends loaded their bags into the Durango and headed home with plans to barbeque steaks when they got there. Of course, Adam and Jeff had refused to let Paris pay for anything, to which she pretended to be miffed, but in reality, she was grateful, not wanting all of her funds to dwindle away during her first few days.

After dinner, Jeff began rummaging through a closet in the hallway that contained several videos and board games. Paris was just finishing a phone call with Tess, asking her mother to ship the rest of her clothes, her CDs and DVDs, and her CD player to her. She was about to head upstairs to decorate her loft with various fragrant candles she had purchased when the boys asked her to join them. The game was called Scruples and the point was to ask your opponents embarrassing and personal questions, hoping to predict how they would respond and thus, get to know your friends a little better.

It was Paris' turn and she drew an answer card off of the deck. The answer cards said either Yes, No, or Depends. Each player had five question cards and the object was to ask another player one of the questions in your hand, hoping their answer would match your answer card. If it did, you could get rid of one of your question cards. If it didn't, you had to draw a new card. Paris still had four cards in her hand, compared to Jeff's three and Adam's two, and they were all really stupid questions. Her answer card said No, but she didn't really have any questions that she thought the men would say No to. Out of desperation, she picked Jeff.

"OK, Jeff…you're at a dinner party. You see a corpulent guest sit in a very expensive-looking antique chair and you hear a distinct crack. Would you tell the host or hostess what happened?"

Jeff looked puzzled. "What the hell does corpulent mean?"

"Fat," Adam replied, taking a sip of his beer.

Jeff thought for a moment. "Yeah, I suppose I'd say something if it was antique, but I'd do it in private. I wouldn't like embarrass the guy or something."

"Damn!" Paris swore, flipping her No card over. "I figured you wouldn't say anything because you're too nice."

Adam laughed as Paris drew another question card to replace the one she got wrong. Jeff reached over and drew an answer card.

"Paris," the Hardy brother began. "You see your best friend's boyfriend…(cough)…Dave Batista…(cough)…participating in what appears to be a romantic tryst in a trendy restaurant with another woman. Do you tell her?"

Paris shook her head at Jeff's not-so-subtle insinuation. "Fuck yeah, I'd tell her."

"Yes!" Jeff exclaimed, turning over his Yes answer card. "Your turn, Copeland."

"Paris," Adam said, studying his one remaining card. "You're a struggling actress. You're broke and hungry and the rent's due. A top producer offers you a part, but on one condition…you have to sleep with him. Do you do it?"

Paris' stomach jumped, the question hitting a little too close to home, as Jeff, once again being not-so-subtle, choked on his soda. Paris eyed them both warily, but remained calm and cool.

"Is that one of those 'Invent a Question' cards, Adam?" she questioned suspiciously.

"Nope, I read it word for word," Adam replied, holding up the card for her to see and giving her a knowing smirk.

He knows, Paris thought. She didn't know how, but he knew. And Jeff's reaction indicated that he knew as well. But how? Paris shook her head…of course, it had to be…Adam's friendship with Paul, the one he claimed wasn't very close. What a sick, twisted coincidence that she would get asked such a question…and by Adam, no less. Taking a deep breath, Paris swallowed hard and answered the question as diplomatically as she knew how.

"I'd say it depends," she told them.

"If you say Depends, you have to explain," Jeff reminded her as he shot Adam a sharp look that didn't go unnoticed by Paris.

"Well, if I had kids and I was broke and starving, I'd probably do it. I mean, it's just sex, right? But not if I was married…only if I was like a single mom or something."

"What if you were just single, no kids?" Adam probed.

"Depends," Paris retorted, slightly annoyed that he wouldn't drop it.

"On what?"

So he wants to play games, Paris thought. She knew that she was probably unarmed when it came to a battle of wits or wills with Adam, but he threw down the gauntlet, so it was up to her to pick it up.

"It would depend on how good the part is…and how hot the producer is. I mean, if I'm gonna sleep with the guy, he'd have to be a really good producer…I'm talking the number one man in the business." Her violet eyes locked with Adam's gray ones in somewhat of a challenge. "I mean he'd really have to be the top of his…game…to be worth my time."

Adam smirked as Jeff cleared his throat and excused himself to go to the restroom. As he left, the air in the room practically crackled with tension and electricity as the man known as Edge and the WWE's newest diva continued to stare each other down.

Adam finally broke the tension and smiled winningly. "Paris, I'm confused…did I do something to piss you off?"

Paris snorted and threw her cards down in utter frustration and annoyance. "Let's just cut through the crap, OK? I know you're friends with Paul Levesque, so I'm sure he must have told you that I…hooked up with him. But let's get one thing straight, OK? I didn't do it to get this job and I'm not easy, so I don't really appreciate you asking me that question and just assuming that I'll say yes? You don't know me, OK?"

Paris eyes flashed dangerously as she glanced at Jeff, who had rejoined them and was leaning in the doorway to his and Adam's room. Angrily, she rose from her seat on the couch.

"You know what? This is a waste of time…I'm just gonna go to bed before I say something I regret."

"Paris, wait…" Adam said, rising. "Look, I hate to burst your bubble and embarrass you worse than you've already embarrassed yourself, but I didn't know you hooked up with Paul."

Jeff rolled his eyes at Adam's blatant lie, but remained silent.

"I'll be honest with you," the blond Canadian continued. "I did talk to Paul when you got here. Ever since my divorce, I don't trust easily, especially women. When Tammy said she wanted us to work closely, I hesitated. I called Paul to get a little background on you because I knew you worked for Evolution. He said you were a hard worker and you had a good attitude…that's it. I told you…he and I aren't that close. He did tell me that you dated Orton…and that he broke your heart, so I guess I can understand why you'd be a little suspicious, OK? And as for you being easy…guess what?"

Paris watched in utter horror as Adam reached over and held up his answer card for her to see. It said No. He asked her the question because he thought she'd say No. Paris flushed a deep red and rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to ease the oncoming headache. Not only had she made a complete fool out of herself by jumping down Adam's throat, but she had inadvertently admitted to her two roommates that she had intimate knowledge of The Game himself.

"Wow," the diva stated quietly. "Talk about feeling like a complete asshole."

Adam shook his head. "Forget about it…it was just a misunderstanding."

"No, I'm sorry…really. I didn't mean to accuse you of…"

"It's OK…really. I can just imagine how it sounded…"

"No, really…I jumped to conclusions and I'm sorry."

"Hey, why don't we just throw that round out and start new?" Jeff suggested.

Paris smiled. "Actually, I think I'll take a rain check. It's late and I have a full day tomorrow what with the TV taping and everything.

Adam nodded. "So we're OK?"

"Of course," Paris said. "And just to show you, I want a hug."

She knew she was being forward, but she couldn't deny that she was attracted to Adam, despite not knowing quite what to make of him and all the veiled warnings she had received from various people. Nevertheless, she didn't want him and Jeff to think she was some high-strung drama queen that was set off at the slightest provocation.

Adam grinned toothily as he took Paris into his arms and hugged her tightly. Paris inhaled sharply as she came into contact with his warm, bare skin. She was beginning to think the man lived his life without a shirt. Or maybe it was because she couldn't stop herself from staring and he knew it.

Adam reluctantly let her go after several seconds, secretly relishing the fact that he could still smell traces of her perfume on his arms and chest. Paris smiled as she turned and headed up the stairs. Adam smiled back, unable to deny the arousal that simply hugging her had caused. He barely noticed that Jeff had reentered the room because he was so distracted, thinking about the sensation of her breasts pressed up against his chest with only the thin material of her tank top separating them.

Snapping out of his fantasy, Adam smirked pimpishly at Jeff, who merely leaned back and shook his head, all too familiar with his Canadian friend's modus operandi. Adam listened quietly, making sure Paris had gone upstairs as he heard her footsteps moving across the ceiling. Turning to Jeff, he lifted his arms in a mock imitation of Randy Orton before pretending to sink an imaginary basketball in an equally invisible hoop.

"Game, set, match…and the Oscar goes to…Adam Copeland," he whispered as Jeff looked on with disgust.

Jeff snorted. "I'm going to bed," he stated rising from the couch. "And by the way, you're a pig."

Adam didn't respond, but followed Jeff into the bedroom, making oinking sounds.

"Knock it off," Jeff said, annoyed, as he took off his shirt and threw it at Adam.

Adam laughed as he tossed the shirt to the floor and climbed into bed. Jeff got into his own bed and flipped on the lamp. He nonchalantly leafed through a wrestling magazine as Adam stared at the ceiling, thinking about Paris.

"I bet I nail her Friday night when we go out," Adam stated quietly, breaking the silence.

"Do I care?" Jeff retorted.

"You're just jealous."

"She's not my type, OK? That doesn't mean that I think it's cool that you're lying your ass off to have your jolly way with her."

Adam chuckled, very Triple H-like. "God, when she hugged me, her tits felt amazing. I bet they stand up on their own when she lays down."

Jeff threw the blond Canadian a dirty look. "Can we change the subject please?"

"What do you wanna talk about?"

"Anything except Paris' tits and when you're gonna put the boots to her."

"That limits the field a bit, Jeffro."

"Very funny."

"I guess we could talk about Tammy Petersen and how she wants to bone you hardcore. Who would have thought…under that layer of permafrost?"

"How do you know she wants 'bone' me, as you so tactfully put it?"

"Paris told me."

"But what about O'Haire?"

"I told you, man…it's just sex."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Jeff shot back sarcastically. "If I'm gonna date a girl, I don't particularly find it a turn-on if she's shacked up with another dude. Call me a freak, but that's just how I am."

"You are a freak," Adam quipped. "But that's beside the point. Can we go back to talking about Paris' tits?"

"Fuck, whatever…I'm going to bed." Jeff stated, the exasperation in his voice evident.

"I'll be in the bathroom…under a cold shower," Adam replied.

"Try not to hurt yourself," Jeff retorted as the blond Canadian shot him an evil grin and disappeared into the bathroom.

There was nothing more Jeff could do besides shake his head with dismay before rolling over to go to sleep.

**Hey, everyone. Sorry about the delay…no time lately, and besides, all the scandals in these wrestlers' personal lives are really f#ing with my creativity. I'm so pissed at Randy Orton these days, I may just have to toy with the idea of ****Paris**** getting together with Paul. Talk about f#ing everything up…f#ing Amy Webber…I'm glad the bitch is gone! Please read and review…sorry it's so long again, but like I said, I'm laying groundwork. Sounds like Adam's thinking about 'laying' something as well. Let me know what you think. Loves…**

**Evilution (AKA Jeanne)**


	4. Hostile Work Environment

Chapter 4 – Hostile Work Environment

By Evilution

Disclaimer: Of course, I disclaim. Thank you to everyone who recently gave me advice on this story…you know who you are. I'm still not sure what I want to do, but y'all (I'm from Montana, remember?) gave me a lot to think about. In this chapter, I introduce a lot of the OVW women. I tried to do as much research as I could to determine who was in OVW at the time that Paris would be there. I know that Beth Phoenix didn't get her WWE tryout until May 2004 and that Melissa Coates wasn't there either, but because I didn't want Jillian Hall to be a heel and I wanted her to be one of Paris' allies, I needed a couple more blonds and I thought Beth and Melissa fit the bill perfectly with Melissa kind of being the nicer one of the group, but she pretends in order to please Nicole Fink (Nikita), who totally disrespects her in the process. I was going to make Synn really, really evil, but I changed my mind and I'm thinking about making her kind of an anti-hero with Paris, someone Paris eventually begins to respect, but someone she can't completely trust either. Anyway, thanks again and enjoy…

Paris woke up the next morning a little later than she had planned. Glancing at the clock, she realized that she only had forty-five minutes to shower, dress, and drop Jeff off at Trax before she had to be at her tattoo appointment. After showering quickly and blow-drying her hair, Paris threw on a pair of gray sweats and a black baby tee that said 'Bitch' on it in silver beads. Grabbing her purse, she rushed downstairs and into the kitchen. Adam was just finishing off a sandwich in his usual shirtless glory.

"Where's Jeff?" Paris asked. "I'm kind of running late."

"He left already," Adam replied between bites. "Tammy stopped by and offered him a lift."

"Oh…well, then, are you ready?"

"I didn't think you'd want me to go after last night."

Paris smiled, somewhat exasperated. "I told you we're OK, OK? Come on…get dressed. I need someone to hold my hand. Last I checked, tattoos hurt like hell."

Adam grinned, finished his sandwich, and brushed past Paris to exit the kitchen.

"Nice shirt," the Canadian commented before sprinting down the hallway to his room.

Ten minutes later, Adam maneuvered the Durango up to a coffee kiosk so that Paris could get her morning caffeine fix before their final destination. As they left, traffic turned out to be horrendous…thus, giving them time to chat.

"So, how's your neck?" Paris asked, making small talk.

"It still hurts quite a bit," he replied honestly. "I'm scheduled to be here until WrestleMania."

"That long? How come Amy's back already?"

"Well, Amy got hurt a lot farther back than I did. I just got hurt at the beginning of this year. She got hurt way back early 2002."

"Oh. That's when I'm supposed to debut…at WrestleMania."

Adam let out a low whistle. "Wow, they're not giving you much time, are they?"

"It's mostly just the diva stuff. Shane said the real wrestling would come later."

"They're throwing me right into an angle with Kane, so I know I'll be protected. Glen's one of the most precise wrestlers on RAW.

"So you're gonna be on RAW when you come back?"

"That's what I hear. Do you know what you're doing yet?"

Paris sipped her latte. "Not a clue. Shane had mentioned maybe putting me with Evolution, but I don't know…what with all the drama."

"You mean with Orton or with Paul?"

"Both."

"So what exactly did Orton do to break your heart?" Adam asked after a moment of silence.

Paris sighed. "He didn't break my heart…I broke his."

"How?"

"By sleeping with Paul…how do you think?" Paris replied, glumly. "Can we not talk about this right now?"

"Sure…I'm sorry."

"No, it's OK. It's just…"

"I understand…really." He paused, trying to think of a new subject to take her mind off of the boys of Evolution. "So, Paris, what makes you think you have what it takes to be a wrestler?" Adam quipped.

"I used to be a gymnast and I have a red belt in karate. You know Rob Van Dam, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you know that thing he does where he does the splits between two chairs?"

"Yeah?"

"I can do that."

"Bullshit!"

"Wanna bet?"

Adam laughed heartily. "Honey, you'd best not make bets with me. You may not like how you have to pay them off." He grinned lasciviously.

Paris arched her eyebrow, miffed at his lack of confidence in her. "Pretty fucking confident you'll win, aren't you, Copeland?"

"I'm always confident."

"Fine…pick your poison."

"If you can do what RVD does…I'll pay for your tattoo. If not, you have to slow dance with me Friday…and let me kiss you…with tongue."

"Are you coming on to me?" Paris demanded with mock indignation.

Adam snorted. "You wish, Ocean."

Paris turned to issue a sharp retort, but she noticed that the corners of his mouth were bent up in a smile.

"You're on," the diva replied in a conceited tone. "You might as well just get your credit card out right now, ass clown."

"Ass clown?" Adam laughed. "Hang around Jericho much?"

Paris ignored him as he pulled into The Silver Dragon. She jumped out of the Durango and walked up to the door, which Adam held for her. Casey, who was also a tattoo artist was waiting and after Paris apologized for being late, she made an unusual request.

"Do you have two chairs I can use for a second?"

"Sure," Casey replied, looking puzzled. "Can I ask why?"

Paris smiled. "I'm winning a bet."

"Trying to win a bet," Adam corrected.

Casey nodded, intrigued, as he disappeared into the back and returned with two folding chairs. After placing them at exactly the right distance, Paris did a perfect handstand in between them and lowered herself so that each of her ankles rested on a chair. When she had her balance, she removed her hands from the floor and balanced in a perfect straddle between the two chairs. She smirked arrogantly at Adam as he and Casey applauded, clearly impressed. Adam was secretly marveling at how flexible she was, hoping to one day try her talents out in another venue…like his bedroom.

With a self-satisfied smile, Paris lowered her hands back to the floor and lifted herself off the chairs as Adam handed Casey his Platinum Visa with a look of chagrin.

"Whatever the lady wants," the blond wrestler told the tattoo artist.

"Adam, help me," Paris interrupted, attaining Adam's undivided attention once again. "I can't decide."

Adam approached Paris and stood as close to her as possible without invading her personal space. She opened a book and showed him two extremely different tattoos. One was a yin/yang symbol, surrounded by a four- point star and the other was a butterfly, similar to the one on her arm, but larger and it had some black tribal above and below its wings.

"I really like this one, too," she said, showing him a picture of a long chain of twining flowers and vines.

"Where are you thinking of getting these?" he asked, studying the images.

"If I get the butterfly, I want it right here…right above my tribal." She turned and lifting her shirt, showed Adam her back.

She had an intricate but feminine black tribal design across her lower back, intermingled with splashes of purple, blue, and teal green. The middle of the tattoo dipped downward toward the crack of her butt, creating an indenture where another tattoo would sit perfectly.

"And I want the yin/yang up on the back of my neck," she went on.

"I like the butterfly," Adam agreed, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "But only if you do it the same colors as your lower back. I'm not sure about the yin/yang though. Where are you thinking of getting the flowers?"

"I wanted them to circle my belly button and trail down to…"

"Go on…"

"Well, down there…you know what I mean."

Adam smirked, cocking his eyebrow jauntily. Indeed he did know what she meant.

"So what do you think?" Paris urged.

"Lift your shirt," Adam said, turning her around so that her back was to him once again. Paris shivered slightly as his fingers grazed her back, pulling her shirt up.

Adam studied her back intently, his face breaking into an amused smile. She had a small tattoo on her upper right shoulder blade that for its miniature size was uncannily detailed. It was a blond fairy, who had her head tilted upward, sniffing a slightly larger flower that loomed over her. The fairy was drawn from the side and appeared to be flying, hovering dreamily with one leg bent upward behind her, like a girl daintily kissing a boy. The fairy was smiling and her eyes were closed, thus justifying the small size as a tattoo of a human face could only be as small as to still see the eyes. She was nude and her nipples were pierced. The flower was bent enticingly close to her mouth, its stigma and style resembling a certain male body part. She looked suspiciously like Paris.

"Do you want my honest opinion?" Adam queried.

"Of course."

"I like the butterfly…right here." Paris inhaled sharply as his fingers touched the small of her back, just above her tribal. "But I don't think you should get the yin/yang on your neck. It's gonna be too crowded with that fairy."

"I agree," Casey said, standing next to Adam. "Who did the fairy tattoo?"

"Vance Amador in Vegas," Paris replied. "He did all my work."

"I know Vance," Casey went on. "He's very talented."

"I don't like the flower vine either," Adam declared, grinning slightly. "I have to admit I'm intrigued about their location…but, I don't know…I just don't like it."

"If your heart's set on the yin/yang, I could do that on your stomach," Casey suggested.

"Yeah, he could do the star part around your belly button, like your buddy, Dave Batista has," Adam explained. "Then, maybe he could do a smaller star off to the side with the yin/yang in the middle."

"And if you really want something to trail down to your pubic area, I could do like a little shower of stars or sparkles or something like that," Casey went on.

After much debate, Paris decided on the butterfly on her back and the star on her stomach. Casey had drawn a quick sketch of the star, which was going to surround her belly button and then, off to the side, to the upper right of the star, he did a smaller four-point star with the yin/yang in the middle. He also drew a tiny shower of stars that would trail down to her nether-region, kind of like the one on her belly button was a shooting star that had left a trail as it shot upward. Just when everything was set, Paris began to waver on whether she should spend the money on both tattoos.

"I can't really afford both of them," the diva lamented.

"Umm…did you forget who's picking up the tab?" Adam reminded her. "I lost the bet, remember?"

"I don't expect you to spend that kind of money. The bet was for one tattoo."

"OK, so if I pay for one, you can afford the other one, right?"

Paris thought for a moment. She really couldn't decide and she did want both of them. Finally, she relented and gave in to Adam's coaxing.

"Do you have time to do both?" she asked Casey.

"I know my OVW customers…I blocked the whole morning out."

"Then, that settles it…I want both."

Casey nodded and disappeared into the back room to set up as Adam leafed through a tattoo book and Paris checked out the body jewelry counter. Casey finally emerged and hung up the 'Closed' sign before leading Paris into the back, followed by Adam. He had her remove her shirt and lined the waistband of her pants with tissue so as not to get her clothes dirty. Paris was relieved that she chose to wear a bra. After Casey placed the stencil on her back and Adam confirmed that it was straight, he had Paris lie on her stomach on the table and he quickly got to work. Adam observed the handiwork, occasionally holding Paris' hand and distracting her with conversation whenever Casey hit a particularly sensitive spot on her back.

It only took Casey about an hour to finish the first tattoo. After he cleaned Paris up, took a picture of his work, and bandaged it, he had her flip onto her back and lower her pants, so he could place the star stencil on her stomach. It was a little more difficult to place than the first one and it took him several tries to get it just right to where both he and Paris were satisfied.

"What colors are we doing?" Casey asked, lining up the little inkpots.

"Black and white on the yin/yang and then, purples and blues on the stars," Paris replied. "Maybe a little hot pink or something."

Casey nodded and finished setting up as Paris tried to relax. Her stomach was somewhat muscled and she had to admit that she was a little nervous about the pain factor with this particular tattoo. As Casey began working, Paris relaxed and chatted with Adam, who was trying to focus on conversation rather than how low Paris' pants were and the final destination of Casey's tattoo needle.

The intricate little stars and sparkles ended up taking Casey a little longer than the first tattoo. Unexpectedly, he paused just before he reached her pubic bone.

"Sorry, but I'm gonna need you to lower your pants a little more if you want it to go right to the hood," he stated. "This part might sting a little."

"Do you want me to leave?" Adam asked, hoping she'd say no.

"No," Paris said, chewing on her lower lip. "Just turn your back, K?"

Adam complied and shifted in his chair so that his back was aimed toward Casey and where he was working. Paris grabbed his hand and bit her lip as the needle started again. Casey finished as quickly as possible as Paris squeezed Adam's hand, tears pricking her eyes as this was easily the most painful artwork she had ever endured.

Finally, he was done…everything was cleaned, sterilized, and bandaged, and Paris was once again fully-dressed. Since Casey had some extra time blocked, he touched up each of Paris' tattoos and added some black curlicue tribal to the butterfly on her left arm. During this time, Adam got up to stretch his legs and wandered out into the main part of the salon. Just when Paris thought they were almost done and would finally be able to get out of there, Adam rushed back in and asked Casey if he had time to do a simple black Chinese symbol. Casey agreed and about half an hour later, Adam had the Chinese symbol for 'Edge' on the back of his neck. Casey finished by touching up Adam's sun tattoo on his left arm and bandaging his neck. As Adam was pulling on his shirt, Paris excused herself to use the restroom. While she was gone, Adam followed Casey to the cash register to find out what the damage was.

"What's the final number, my friend?" the Canadian asked.

"Sixty for her back, one hundred and twenty for her stomach, forty for your neck, and twenty for the tribal on her arm. The touch-ups are on the house…so the grand total is two hundred and forty dollars."

"Just run it for three hundred," Adam requested as Paris joined him.

"What do I owe?" the diva questioned.

Adam brushed her off. "I just put it all on my credit card…we'll settle up later."

Paris nodded, deciding from Adam's look not to debate the issue in front of Casey.

"And your change…260, 280, and twenty is three hundred dollars. Thank you, Adam."

Adam shook his head. "That's yours, man," he said, indicating that Casey should keep the sixty dollars as a tip.

"I couldn't accept…"

"Bullshit. You blocked the whole morning for us, you did a bunch of extra shit…and you did an awesome job…so take it."

"Thanks, Adam…I appreciate that. I want both of you to take your bandages off in about an hour or so, wash gently with Dial soap, and then, put some of this ointment on. I gave you several tubes, but a little bit goes a long way. You won't need much on your touch-ups because that's tattooed skin already. Paris, I want you to be really careful with that one on your stomach. Wear loose cotton underwear or none at all if your pants are loose enough. If you absolutely have to wear tight clothing, put a generous, and I mean generous, amount of that ointment on and put a non-stick gauze bandage on the tattoo. If you guys have any questions or concerns, don't hesitate to call or stop in."

"Thanks, man."

"Thanks, Casey," Paris added as she followed Adam out the door while he pocketed the card and receipt.

"So what do I owe you?" she asked once they were in the car.

"Don't worry about it," Adam scoffed. "Yours was only two hundred."

"What!" Paris exclaimed. "I'm not letting you pay for everything! The deal was for one tattoo…one! You just dropped three hundred dollars in there!"

"Pocket change."

"I'm paying for half…stop at an ATM," Paris ordered, removing her wallet.

"You're not paying for half," Adam argued. "Mine was forty and I'm covering the tip, not to mention the tattoo I owe you."

"Fine, I'm paying for half of mine which is a hundred."

"Nope. I'm paying for the one on your stomach…it was more expensive, so you owe me eighty dollars for your back and your arm. You really don't have to pay me at all, you know." There are other ways to repay a debt besides money, he thought slyly.

"Bullshit…and I'm buying lunch. No Subway or anything either…we're going somewhere nice."

"I can deal with that," Adam replied, glancing at his watch. "But we're gonna have to take a rain check. It's nearly one o'clock and we have to be at the New Davis at three."

"Shit, that's right. How about dinner Friday?"

"It's a date," Adam smiled.

"We've gotta swing through Subway though…I'm starving."

"Me, too," the Canadian agreed as he pulled into the drive-thru at Subway.

They ordered and before Paris could protest, Adam had paid for her sandwich.

"Goddamnit!" she exclaimed jovially as they headed home. "Stop buying stuff for me! When do I get to do something for you?"

Adam grinned. Sooner than you think, sweets, he told himself. "I'm keeping a tally," he said. "I'll collect eventually."

Paris smiled as Adam pulled up to an ATM and she got his eighty dollars for him. Finally, the two friends headed home and after quickly eating, disappeared into their respective bathrooms for a shower. Paris had just finished her hair and make-up when she heard Adam call up the stairs.

"Hey, Paris…"

"Yeah?"

"Can I come up? I need you to put some of this shit on my neck."

"Sure…just a second."

Paris threw a robe on over her bra and panties before beckoning him to come upstairs. He went into the bathroom and sat on the edge of her bathtub as she lifted his hair and smeared the greasy ointment on his new tattoo.

"Need any help with yours?" he offered.

"No, I got all of them, but there is something you can help me with."

"Name it."

"What should I wear? I wanna make a good first impression."

Adam walked into her closet and stroked his chin thoughtfully for several minutes before pulling out a pair of black leather pants.

"I think you should wear these…they're hot."

"I can't wear those!"

"Why not?"

"Because I'll look like a whore. And besides…they're too tight. Remember my tattoo?"

"I'll get you a gauze pad. Plus the lining on these is like silky or whatever…it's better than rough denim."

Paris rolled her eyes. He had a point. "Fine, whatever. What about a shirt?"

Adam perused the rack once again and came up with a crisp white blouse that only had one button at the breasts and was open above and below to expose a generous amount of cleavage and an even more generous amount of midriff.

"This," he said. "With a black bra underneath and those boots." He pointed to a pair of high-heeled black boots.

"I'm going to my first OVW TV taping, not my first hooker convention," Paris told him.

"Shut up…you'll look great. I'll get that gauze pad."

Adam brought her a gauze pad and said he'd wait downstairs with Jeff, but she needed to hurry. Paris carefully put the gauze pad on the lower part of her tattoo, making sure the top didn't show above her low-cut pants. The shirt was very sexy and revealed most of her new tattoo. Paris completed the look with a silver chain belt and some matching jewelry before dousing herself with Dior Poison and dabbing some shimmering gloss on her lips. Grabbing her purse, she rushed downstairs where Adam and Jeff were waiting.

As Paris entered the room, Adam grinned appreciatively, eyeing her up and down, his intent obvious. Even Jeff couldn't help but stare as they headed out the door to the Durango.

"You look good enough to eat," Adam whispered seductively in her ear as he held the car door for her.

He had known that the outfit would look slamming on her and quite obviously, it did. As she climbed into the front seat of the Durango, he couldn't resist copping a quick feel on her ass. After all, it looked no less than perfect in those tight leather pants. Paris didn't seem to mind and if she did, she didn't comment. She simply sat there, smiling slightly and blushing quite becomingly.

As they drove to the New Davis Arena, Paris stared out the window, trying to deny the fact that her body was tingling all over just from Adam's lips brushing her ear and his hand on her butt. It was pretty obvious that the Canadian was attracted to her, most likely only in a physical sense, being that he barely knew her at this point. It was quite clear that Adam wanted her and she wasn't sure if she didn't want the same thing. Naturally, she didn't love him…her heart belonged to only one man, and that was The Legend Killer, Randy Orton…even if that love wasn't reciprocated. Of course, Paris wasn't so naïve that she didn't realize that it probably wasn't love that Adam Copeland was after.

Once they got to the arena, Adam and Jeff made sure that they delivered Paris safely to Tammy before going about their business. Tammy seemed highly stressed and very distracted as she led Paris to the women's locker room, rambling a mile a minute about all the things that had gone wrong already. Stopping outside the door to the locker room, the executive assistant took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Four pretty faces looked up suddenly as they entered—three of them smiling and one skeptical.

"Good evening, ladies," Tammy greeted as they all rose. Paris noticed that three of them were about the same height as her if not a few inches shorter, except the skeptical-looking girl who was much shorter, about Trish's size.

Tammy paused and looked around, her brow furrowing with confusion. "Where're the others?" she asked.

"Heaven only knows," a slim brunette with dark eyes replied, shrugging. Her tone seemed to indicate that she knew exactly who Tammy was talking about.

"Oh, well…who cares?" Tammy went on. "It's not like she's missing anything by not meeting them. Anyway…ladies, this is Paris Ocean…she's the new diva Vince sent down here. She's the one who's gonna be valeting for Edge and Jeff Hardy and her wrestling name is Nikki Midnight. Paris, this is Alexis Laree…one of our top female wrestlers." Tammy indicated the tall brunette who had spoken earlier.

"Welcome aboard, Paris," Alexis replied, shaking her hand. "If you need anything, just let me know."

"This is Jillian Hall," Tammy said, presenting a very pretty girl with long, dark blond hair, blue eyes, a winning smile, and a very infectious laugh. "She used to be a cheerleading competitor."

"Nice to meet you," Paris said, shaking hands. "I used to be a cheerleader."

"Oh, Tammy, she's just the cutest thing," Jillian giggled, a slight Southern accent. "You'll fit in just peachy with me and Lexi here, hun."

"This is Shannon Ward," Tammy went on, presenting another girl with jet black hair, dark eyes, blue lipstick, and dark gothic make-up.

"Don't let her fool you…she's a total sweetheart."

Shannon let out a loud, maniacal laugh, which caused Paris to jump, but had no affect whatsoever on the others. Obviously, they were used to Shannon's eccentricities.

"Nice to meet you, Paris," Shannon giggled, shaking her hand. "I'm very normal…I swear."

"You probably won't see much of Shannon," Tammy explained. "She divides her time between here and Ring of Honor…that's another federation."

"I like your eyebrow accessory," Shannon told Paris, pointing at the tiny ring in her own eyebrow.

"Thanks…I like yours, too."

"And this is Trudi DeNucci," Tammy said, presenting the skeptical-looking one, a pretty girl with long, chestnut-colored hair and dark eyes. "Trudi just started here, so she's kind of observing, just like you, Paris."

"How you doin, Paris?" Trudi greeted, her Brooklyn accent evident.

"I'm good, thanks. It's nice to meet you."

"Ladies, I'm beyond busy," Tammy told them. "I'd like to leave Paris here with you so you can show her around and explain how we do things here. She's been around the WWE locker room for about a month, so she knows her stuff…but Lexi, I'm putting you in charge of keeping her away from…well, you know…the bad elements around here. Introduce her to some of the guys and treat her how you would want to be treated, OK?"

"Not a problem, Stressed Out Boss Lady," Alexis said cheerfully, her sarcasm aimed more at Tammy than Paris. "Come on, Paris…come dish with us."

Tammy watched relieved as Alexis and Jillian linked arms with Paris and led her over to the couch, followed closely by Shannon and Trudi. Even though Trudi was a bit of a flake and Shannon was a little crazy, Tammy knew that Alexis and Jillian were not only nice girls, but they were professionals. Tammy knew she could trust Alexis and Jillian to be nice to Paris, and that Shannon and Trudi would follow suit. Shannon had been around the business a long time and she got along with just about everyone. Trudi tended to be a bit suspicious of newcomers…it was in her Italian nature, but as Tammy left, she could see that even Trudi was warming up to Paris.

"So, Paris, you got a boyfriend up there is big ol' WWE?" Jillian asked, her voice friendly.

Paris was relieved to finally meet some people who obviously didn't know about the whole Triple H drama, and if they did, were too polite to mention it.

"No, not really," the new diva answered. "I was dating Randy Orton for a while, but…"

"But what?" Alexis prompted.

"We just went our separate ways…you know, while I'm here and everything. What about you guys? Any boyfriends?"

"I'm dating Joey Matthews," Alexis stated. "He trained in Omega with Matt and Jeff Hardy and Lita and all the Carolina crew. Jillian here just started seeing Matt Capotelli…you know, one of the Tough Enough 3 winners. Trudi's got a major crush on John Cena and…"

"I do not!" Trudi protested, blushing. "I just like how he raps."

"Whatever," Alexis laughed. "And Shannon…who's the man of the hour this week?"

"Jeez, Lex," Shannon giggled. "Make me sound like some kind of a hooker to the newbie, why don't you? FYI, I'm free and single right now. Know any hot, tattooed guys, Paris?"

"Other than Orton, not really," Paris laughed.

"Sorry, not my type," Shannon lamented. "And that's not tattooed…that's wannabe tattooed. Now, Undertaker…that's tattooed. Raven, Bane, Batista…that's tattooed."

"Well, most of the guys I know are taken…but I've heard John Cena just became single."

Paris could have sworn she saw Trudi's eyes light up, but it was just for a flickering moment as all the OVW divas agreed that they heard the same thing and lamented that their beloved designer, Katie Carlisle, was leaving.

As Paris remained quiet and listened to the OVW divas dish about various people, she was suddenly distracted. The door to the locker room was flung open and four attractive, blond women sauntered in. The leader of the group, who was about Paris' height, scanned the locker room, her eyes settling on the divas in the corner, Paris in particular. Smirking triumphantly, she began to make her way across the room, followed by the others.

"Oh, goody…" Shannon mumbled, watching them approach, as Trudi sighed and rolled her eyes.

Paris' senses were immediately on the defensive as Alexis grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, the others surrounding her protectively.

"Well, well, well," the leader began, her voice like chiming crystal with a supercilious tone. "This must be the new diva. I'm Nicole Fink." She put out her hand.

Tentatively, Paris shook her hand as she smirked at Alexis and Jillian before turning to introduce her friends.

"This is Beth Phoenix," Nicole went on, indicating a pretty blond girl with frosty blue eyes and a slightly turned-up nose. "She valets for The Troubleshooters…Chris Masters and Brent Albright. Brent is Beth's cousin and Chris is her boyfriend."

Nicole smiled toothily, keeping a firm grip on Paris' arm and pulling her slightly away from Alexis and Jillian.

"And this is Passion," Nicole continued, presenting an older blond woman, who was medium height and muscular with dark blue eyes and a condescending look on her face. "She and I team together sometimes. She's known as the Belle of Biloxi."

Passion nodded shortly at Paris, barely acknowledging her.

"Of course, you're Paris Ocean, AKA Nikki Midnight," Nicole stated knowingly. "Now, Paris, there's a few things that…"

Nicole was interrupted by the sound of someone quietly clearing their throat. Nicole looked up, annoyed, as she and Paris discovered that the source of the interruption was a pretty blond woman with bright blue eyes, who was standing behind Beth and Passion. She was about medium height and very muscular, more so than Passion. She was by far the prettiest of the group.

Nicole rolled her eyes and sighed, apparently not appreciating the woman's intrusion into the conversation.

"Paris, this is Melissa," Nicole replied in a bored, overburdened tone. "She's hurt right now, so she's pretty much…"

"I'm Melissa Coates," the woman said, maneuvering her way in between Beth and Passion so she could shake hands with Paris. "I'm into bodybuilding, so if you need any pointers on work outs or nutrition…"

"Well, I'm sure we're just all refreshed to hear that," Nicole interjected rudely, pulling Paris' hand away from Melissa's grasp. "You have to excuse Melissa…she gets a little too talkative sometimes."

Too talkative, Paris thought. The woman barely said three words. She was just trying to be nice, which was more than any of the others had done. Frankly, Melissa appeared to be the only one in the group who was sincerely trying to be nice to Paris. Passion had pretty much ignored her, Beth was too busy looking down her nose, and Nicole was quite obviously trying to walk all over Paris, which didn't set well at all with the new diva. In fact, Nicole's overbearing nature was really starting to grind on Paris' nerves and she was more than a little irritated at the way Nicole had rudely cut off Melissa.

"So you see, Paris, we try to be like a family," Nicole rambled on, oblivious to the fact that Paris had barely heard a word she said. "But like all families, OVW has that one branch that we don't like to talk about…if you know what I mean." She glanced pointedly at Alexis, causing the brunette to snort with derision.

"No, actually, I don't," Paris said with mock innocence. "What do you mean?"

Nicole responded with a light, tittering laugh that reminded Paris of an amused mother dealing with a child that didn't know any better.

"Well, Paris, let's just say that you don't want to get off on the wrong foot here and go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you out there."

She grasped Paris' arm and linked it with hers, but Paris had heard enough. Yanking her arm away from Nicole's talon-like grip, she backed up to stand with the others so she was flanked by Alexis and Jillian.

"Thanks for the offer, Nicole," Paris replied, the low iciness in her voice evident. "But I'm a big girl and I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself…if you know what I mean."

Nicole locked glances with Paris, her eyes like green chips of ice. Not only was this Paris being uncooperative, but she appeared to be challenging her as well. There was only room for one alpha female in the OVW locker room and in Nicole's eyes, she was it. Paris would have to learn the hard way. No wet-behind-the-ears rookie was going to vie for Nicole's throne and make her look like an idiot.

"Suit yourself," Nicole remarked, shrugging. "Just remember there's only one queen around here."

Paris snorted with laugher. She knew it probably wasn't the smartest thing to make enemies so soon, but the woman just plain pissed her off and she wasn't about to put up with it.

"Says who?" she shot back.

"Says me!"

"Well, maybe it's time for a revolution."

"Are you threatening me, newbie?"

"Did I stutter?"

"Maybe you'd like to step in the ring and we'll see if you've got the skills to back that mouth up!"

"You know damn well she's not trained yet, Fink!" Alexis stated, stepping protectively in front of Paris.

Paris gently and in a non-aggressive way, pushed Alexis aside to stand toe to toe with OVW's self-proclaimed queen. "I may not be trained in the ring, but I have more than enough skills to step outside!"

Nicole smiled evilly at her friends before turning her attention back to Paris and issuing the ultimate insult in a voice so sickenly sweet, it would have made Mary Poppins throw up.

"Is that so, Paris?" Nicole taunted. "Because the only skill I've heard that you have is spreading your legs for Triple H!"

Alexis, Jillian, Shannon, and Trudi all gasped, their mouths hanging open in shock. Nicole arched an eyebrow as Beth and Passion both giggled and Melissa looked mildly uncomfortable. Paris' hand itched to reach out and slap Nicole right across her smug face, but the blond diva was so stunned by the older woman's audacity that she couldn't even move. Just when Paris had been relived that Alexis and her friends didn't know her secret, someone had to come along and ruin it. How in hell did Nicole Fink know? Of course…it had to be Sarah. Paris vaguely remembered Sarah saying she had been a travel coordinator in OVW, so naturally, the bitch had contact with the wrestlers and probably had a few friends as well. Paris was about to issue a sharp retort when Nicole suddenly broke the silence.

"What's the matter, Paris? Cat got your little pierced tongue?"

"Is your position so threatened, Fink, that you have to make up lies about people?" Alexis interjected.

Nicole laughed. "Lies? Why would I lie, Lexi?"

"Because you're a vindictive bitch, that's why," Shannon retorted.

"If you don't believe me, just ask her," Nicole went on, ignoring Shannon as if she were an insignificant insect.

"Paris, she's lying, right?" Alexis asked, imploring.

Paris turned and locked gazes with Alexis, the other woman's dark eyes searching hers for answers. As much as she wanted to explain, to tell the truth, she was just too ashamed. Paris sighed, casting her violet eyes downward, her silence speaking volumes. Alexis stepped slowly away from her as if she were a snake about to strike.

Nicole chuckled nastily. "You see, Paris…those kind of…activities don't go over well here in OVW. Most of us, like me and Lexi and Jillian have been waiting for months, even years, to get the call up to WWE. All of the sudden, you show up here to train…because lo and behold, you already have your spot! And all because you played a little 'hide the salami' with Paul Levesque! I heard you dated Randy Orton, too. What were you doing, Paris? Working your way up the Evolutionary ladder?"

"Fuck you, you lying bitch!" Paris shouted, stepping forward. "OK, fine…you got me! I fucked Paul Levesque AKA Triple H…in case any of you didn't hear it the first time! What do you want me to say, huh, Nicole? You want me to say I didn't know what I was doing? You want me to say I didn't like it? You want me to say it wasn't the most fantastic sex I've ever had? Well, I can't do that, OK? I can't take back what I did! I wish I could, but I can't! And whose fault was it? Not Paul Levesque's, not Randy Orton's…it was my fault! I'm responsible for my own actions and I screwed up! But know this…Vince gave me the diva job before any of this ever happened! So, did I fuck Triple H? Yes! Did I do it to become a diva? No! And if you don't believe me…well, I don't give two shits what you believe because I don't like mean people like you and I can't wait until I can get your fat ass in the ring!"

A dead silence fell on the locker room in the wake of Paris' tirade, only to be broken by a tiny giggle as Jillian stepped forward and put an arm on Paris' shoulder.

"You go, girl!" the former cheerleader stated, simply and admiringly, as Paris was once again flanked by Shannon and Trudi.

Nicole rolled her eyes, scoffing with disbelief. "You can't be serious, Jillian! Look at how fucking hard you've worked to get the call and you're just gonna let some little slut who probably sucked every dick in the locker room walk in and steal your thunder…our thunder! And what about you, Lexi? What about…"

"What about me, Fink?" Alexis snarled, stepping in front of Paris to get right in Nicole's face. "Have I worked hard? Yes! Am I disappointed every time I don't get the call? Yes…a thousand times, yes! But am I gonna try to knock someone else down and destroy their dreams with vicious gossip and rumors? No! And you know why? Because I'm not like you, Fink! So she fucked Triple H…big deal! Obviously, Vince saw something in her or she wouldn't be here, would she? Vince isn't stupid. He isn't gonna take a risk on nothing and I hardly think a man like Vince McMahon is gonna let Paul Levesque's dick make his business decisions for him!"

Nicole snorted. "Oh, Lexi, your nobility is so moving…I think I'm gonna…cry!"

Beth, Passion, and Melissa laughed as Nicole mockingly pretended to get choked up.

"And your jealousy is so transparent," Alexis retorted. "What's bothering you more, Fink? That Paris is here or that she fucked Paul Levesque?"

Alexis' dark eyes glittered with excitement as Paris noticed something akin to hurt flicker across Nicole's face.

"That's it, isn't it?" Alexis taunted. "You're still stinging from his rejection, aren't you? You've never quite gotten over finding out that it was Paul Levesque who nixed your call up every time! He was the one who kept shooting down the idea for you to play Vince's illegitimate daughter and steal him away from Stephanie during the McMahon/Helmsley Era! Because he didn't want to work with you! Because you wouldn't stop throwing yourself at him! Right? Right?

"Shut up!" Nicole screamed, putting her hands over her ears. "Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!"

The locker room once again fell silent, everyone shocked by Nicole's outburst. So, Paris thought, the bitch had thrown herself at The Game and he had turned her down…repeatedly from the sound of things. Paris smirked inwardly, remembering what Dr. Cerovski had said about Paul…that he was very picky about who he associated with. However she felt about Paul, a tiny part of her was both relieved and glad that he had never been intimate with Nicole Fink. And the fact that he had chosen her over Nicole gave her a slight bit of leverage over the self-appointed queen of OVW.

Trudi suddenly snorted with contempt, breaking the silence. "Look who's the slut now!" the diminutive brunette stated as Shannon smirked knowingly.

"Fuck you, DeNucci!" Nicole spat. "What are you around here? Nothing…that's what! You're just as much of a newbie as she is. And you…"

Paris smirked arrogantly as Nicole's attention was once again focused on her. The blond woman's cold green eyes locked with hers and although Paris would never admit it, there was a tiny flicker of fear in the pit of her stomach. There was something about the look in Nicole's eyes…vacant, feral, emotionless…that bothered her. She almost felt as if maybe the woman had some deep-seeded psychological problems that no one even knew about.

"Know this, Paris," Nicole went on, deadly calm. "I'm in charge around here and I don't like fakes, I don't like wannabes, and I don't like sluts."

Paris noted that when Nicole said 'fakes,' she glared at Alexis and Jillian, and at the mention of 'wannabes,' her gaze changed to Shannon and Trudi. However, when she said 'sluts,' her attention was focused solely on Paris.

"I'm only warning you once…I don't play games, newbie," Nicole stated with finality as she turned to walk away, followed by her fellow blonds. Unexpectedly, she stopped and cast a contemptuous sneer over her shoulder at Paris. "But then, you know all about 'playing the game,' don't you, Paris?" she said before bursting into cold, mocking laughter.

"More than you ever will," Paris shot back maliciously. She noticed with pleasure that Nicole's spine stiffened visibly before she exited the room with her posse.

The five remaining divas were silent, all trying to come to terms with what had just happened. Finally, it was Paris who spoke first.

"Listen, guys, I'm sorry…that I lied…that I didn't say anything…it's just that…"

"Paris, it's alright," Alexis said reassuringly. "Everyone makes mistakes, OK?"

"Besides," Jillian added. "You can hardly call Triple H a mistake. He's not some piece of shit loser, he's only the most powerful guy in the WWE. Any one of us probably would have slept with him, too."

"Speak for yourself," Shannon retorted. "No offense, Paris, but it's not like you're gonna walk up to people and say, 'Hi, I'm Paris and I fucked Triple H.' It was none of our business. You don't owe us anything. We just met…it's not like I'm gonna tell you every guy I've ever banged."

"Yeah, we don't have all night," Alexis quipped.

"Oh, funny," Shannon squeaked, throwing a towel at Alexis as Paris, Trudi, and Jillian giggled.

"But what I don't understand is if you were with RKO, how did you end up with Triple H?" Trudi asked.

Paris sighed. "It's a long story… and a story for another day. Let's just say Randy and I had a fight and Paul was in the right place at the right time."

"So you love Randy?" Alexis questioned.

"Yeah."

"So why aren't you with him?"

"Maybe someday, when I can forgive myself."

Trudi, Shannon, and Jillian all sighed wistfully at a seemingly tragic love story.

"Well, Paris," Trudi assured. "You know what my Pops always used to say…things just have a way of working out."

"I hope you're right, Trudi," Paris said. "I really hope you're right."

"Come on, girls…I'm starved," Alexis announced. "Pissing Nicole off always makes me hungry."

Paris watched as the four divas headed toward the door, not wanting to join them until she had been invited.

"You coming, Paris?" Alexis asked, stopping and turning toward the newest diva.

Paris smiled. "Sure, I'll meet you there…I just wanna freshen up."

The others nodded and began to leave, but Jillian stopped them. "Wait…Paris, I can't help it…I just have to ask…"

"Yeah?"

"How was he? Triple H, I mean."

Paris shrugged. "I don't know…I was a virgin."

She chuckled as Jillian and Trudi's mouths fell open and Shannon let out a loud shriek. Alexis smiled as she grabbed Jillian and Trudi.

"Come on, chicas…another story for another day."

Paris shook her head as she went into the restroom, deciding that other than Nicole's group, she liked the OVW divas and was already starting to feel at home.

Several minutes later, Paris exited the bathroom, feeling pretty damn good about putting Nicole Fink in her place and making some new friends. She jumped slightly as she came face to face with three strange figures that had entered the locker room without her knowledge.

The two men were standing on either side of the couch. One of them was huge…built like Dave. He was dressed all in black, from his steel-tipped boots to his wife beater and jeans. He was bald with a black goatee and heavily tattooed with a permanent scowl on his face. The other man was shorter with red and black hair and just as many tattoos. He was wearing a black singlet covered with flames. His fingernails were painted black, his eyebrow was pierced, and he was playing with his tongue piercing, rolling the ball over his lips. The woman was stretched out on the couch, but she rose languidly as Paris warily entered the room. She was short and stocky, a little on the heavier side, but not really fat. She had long, red hair and equally red lips and nails. She was wearing a black leather cat suit and thigh-high boots with vicious-looking stiletto heels. In her right hand, she held a riding crop and she had a ring through her lower lip. Without even hesitating, Paris knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was Synn and her Disciples.

"Can I help you?" Paris asked, skeptical yet polite.

"Of course, you're Paris," the woman replied, her voice low and sensual. "I'm Synn…this is Bane and Seven." She pointed first to the bald man and then, the shorter one.

"Nice to meet you," Paris lied. Quite frankly, she was nervous as hell and fought the urge to back away as Synn approached her, followed by Bane and Seven.

"Nice, very nice," Synn commented as she circled Paris, taking in every inch of her. "Pretty hair," she said, her fingers lightly brushing the back of Paris' blond locks. "Pretty, pretty."

Paris jumped as she felt the riding crop gently smack her bottom. She was anxious, but for some reason, she didn't feel threatened, like she had with Nicole and her gang. Even though Synn was supposed to be her nemesis, she got the feeling that the woman was simply toying with her for amusement.

Synn was once again facing Paris, flanked by Bane and Seven. She smiled seductively as she ran the riding crop along Paris' jaw line and trailed it down over once of her breasts.

"Very pretty," she went on. "Isn't she pretty, Seven?"

"Not as pretty as you, Mistress Synn," the shorter man said as he gazed adoringly at Synn, not even noticing Paris.

Synn seemed unaffected by Seven's attention and Paris remembered Shane saying she was a dominatrix. Maybe Seven was her submissive. Maybe they both were. Pushing Seven away, Synn turned to Bane.

"Bane, you like?" she asked, pointing to Paris.

Bane looked Paris up and down, but if he indeed liked what he saw, it wasn't evident as his expression never changed. "I like," he replied stoically. "A lot."

Synn smiled wickedly. Apparently, Bane wasn't quite as submissive as Seven because not only did he admit to finding another woman attractive, but he didn't call her 'Mistress,' which she didn't seem to mind. Paris couldn't help but wonder what Dave's relationship with this woman had been like. Then, she recalled Tammy saying that Dave never got caught up in his character like Synn did.

"You worked for Evolution," Synn stated, more a statement of fact than a question. "So you know my Demon?"

"If you mean Dave Batista…yes," Paris replied.

"Impressive, isn't he?"

"Umm…yes, he's very talented."

"He'll be here in a couple weeks, you know."

Dave? Here? Paris thought. He'd never mentioned that to her and neither had Randy or Paul. Synn must have noticed her look of confusion.

"Just some last minute OVW commitments before he returns to WWE TV. He was here for a while after his triceps injury. Of course, the Demon and I aren't exactly on the same page anymore…especially now that he's dating the red-haired devil woman."

"Lita," Bane stated.

"Yes, I know, Bane…thank you!" Synn snapped sharply.

Paris vaguely noticed the corners of Bane's mouth bend in a slight smile.

"I suppose it's time to move on," Synn sighed. "After all, I have my Seven now."

Paris watched as Synn lovingly stroked Seven's face and he reacted like a puppy being scratched behind the ear. She found it hard to believe if Dave had ever been intimate with this woman. She was sure that the infatuation was more of a one-sided scenario.

"And speaking of Evolution," Synn continued. "I hear through the grapevine that their leader has been to Paris and back, hmm? Lucky him is all I have to say." Once again, Synn ran her riding crop down the middle of Paris' chest, right between her breasts.

"Look, Synn," Paris began, sharper than she intended. "I don't know what you've heard, but this song and dance is getting a little old. I already got the same line of shit from Nicole Fink and …"

"Sweetheart, please…" Synn interrupted. "I don't want to be your enemy…not outside the ring anyways. I heard about your run-in with The Blond Ambition tour…if she bothers you again, I wanna know about it. You and I have our own agenda and nobody will mess that up…especially not that glory-hog Nicole Fink. If that means that my minions and I have to look out for you, so be it. As for you and The Cerebral Assassin, I don't know who I'm more jealous of…you or him."

Paris was silent, not sure how to respond to Synn's blatant flirting. She'd never been hit on by another woman and it unnerved her to say the least. Obviously, Synn wasn't a lesbian, the way she acted with Seven or how she was drooling over Dave and Paul. But it was quite apparent that she liked women as well. To each their own, Paris thought. She was no one to judge.

"Well, thank you for the concern, Synn," Paris said, licking her lips anxiously. "But I can handle Nicole Fink, and I have Edge and Jeff to watch my back…"

"Darling, it's not really your choice," Synn stated, taking Paris' chin between her thumb and forefinger. "You can rest assured that we'll be looking out for you. It will be our…pleasure."

With that, she leaned forward and kissed Paris lightly on the lips. Paris didn't react and although it wasn't something she'd ever do again, she had to admit it wasn't all unpleasant.

"What the hell is going on here?" Adam's voice interrupted, causing Paris to jump. She looked up to see her two roommates standing just inside the locker room.

Synn smiled evilly, releasing Paris' chin and making her way toward Jeff and Adam.

"Edge, you sexy beast," she teased, slapping his arm with her riding crop. "I was just doing some harmless flirting with your little diva."

"Save it, Synn," Adam snapped.

"Well…who crapped in your Cheerios, E?" Synn went on. "Someone has to look out for her cute little tush, especially after she challenged the authority of The Mean Girls."

"I think we've got it covered," Jeff put in. He had just arrived, but this definitely wasn't his first encounter with Synn or her Disciples.

"Hmm, Hardy boy," Synn said, giving Jeff a thorough once over and running her nails along his chest. "Good to see you again. How's Matty and…Lita?"

Paris noticed Synn's teeth clench when she said the word 'Lita.'

"What do you care?" Jeff responded sarcastically. "Although I'm sure Lita's doing just peachy…now that she has something you never had."

"If you're referring to the Demon, I could care less…"

"Then why'd you ask?"

Synn chuckled. "Boys, I was only trying to make nice nice with your pretty little Barbie doll. Don't go getting your panties in a bunch…as much as I'd like to see that."

"Paris is my concern…I mean, our concern, not yours," Adam stated pointedly, his gray eyes cold.

"Well, I'm sure we're all relieved to hear that. Try not to wear her out, Edge," Synn purred. "At least, not until I get a chance. We know how tiring it can be for you, walking in the shadows of Orton and H. Those are two jockstraps that you might have a hard time filling. See ya, gorgeous," she added, winking at Paris before beckoning Bane and Seven, who were smirking and snickering, to follow her out of the room.

The door slammed as Adam and Jeff looked questioningly at Paris.

"Are you OK?" Adam asked, rushing to stand next to her as he tried to conceal the angry twitch in his jaw over Synn's comment about Triple H and Orton. As if he couldn't measure up to them…

"I'm fine…why wouldn't I be?"

"Alexis told us about your run-in with Nicole Fink," Adam explained. "She said you were pretty upset."

Paris waved her hand casually. "I'm not afraid of Nicole Fink…"

"And then, we walk in here and you're making out with Synn!" Jeff exclaimed.

"I wasn't making out with her. She kissed me! Trust me, I'm not into women, OK?"

"So what did she want…besides the obvious?" Jeff inquired.

"She wants to protect me from Nicole Fink because she doesn't want Fink to mess with our feud. I guess our feud with the DoS is gonna be OVW's star attraction for a while."

"Listen, Paris," Adam began. "Synn may talk a good game, but she's no different from Fink. They're both threatened by you. Synn's dangerous and she can't be trusted. All she's doing is going by the old adage that you keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"And I'm the enemy," Paris replied, knowingly. She chewed on her lower lip in consternation at the idea that she had just been played by Synn.

Jeff and Adam both nodded as Adam put a friendly arm around Paris' shoulders.

"Don't sweat it, Paris," Jeff told her loyally. "Like Adam said, you're our concern. We're not gonna let anyone mess with you…not Synn, not Nicole Fink, not Evolution…no one."

"That's right," Adam reinforced. "You belong to us now, got it?"

Paris nodded, grateful that they were backing her up since she had inadvertently made two new enemies that night.

"I got it," she said. "And I appreciate the concern, guys…really, I do."

Both men hugged Paris in a friendly manner before Jeff announced that he was hungry, as usual, and they should go eat. Paris smiled as she followed Jeff and Adam down to catering. When they got there, Alexis immediately got her attention and smiling, beckoned Paris to join her, Jillian, and two good-looking guys, who Paris later learned were Joey Matthews and Matt Capotelli, Alexis and Jillian's boyfriends. Adam and Jeff also sat with Paris and her new friends, Jeff being friendly with Joey from their Omega days. They were also joined by a handsome man with long brown hair and sideburns, twinkling green eyes, and a brilliant smile, who was introduced as John Hennigan, Matt's co-Tough Enough 3 winner. John flirted shamelessly with Paris, until he received several stern glares from Adam and excused himself to go talk to one of the trainers.

After dinner, Paris settled back to watch the show. There were only three matches, being that it was only an hour-long show that would air on Saturday. Afterward, Alexis and Joey invited them to go down to The Blue Bomb, which Paris learned was a karoke/dance club that was the favorite hangout of the OVW wrestlers and divas. Although Paris wanted to go, she'd had a long day and had a very early morning with her first training session, so regretfully, she declined. Adam also chose not to go, opting to accompany Paris home. Jeff, however, went with Joey, Alexis, and the others, only after doing some heavy persuading to get Tammy to go along.

On the drive home, Paris had a hard time keeping her eyes open. Adam noticed her exhaustion and took a shortcut to get them home quicker. At the house, Paris bid Adam goodnight and went upstairs, where she took a quick shower before applying some ointment to her tattoos and putting on an oversize Chris Jericho hockey jersey. Paris opened the window above her bed to get some air circulating in the stifling loft. It was warm for October, even for the South, and the evening air reeked with night-blooming jasmine. Paris stretched out on top of the covers and closed her eyes, breathing in the fragrant air. Just as she was about to doze off, she heard Adam calling her name, asking if he could come upstairs.

"Hey," the blond Canadian greeted as he ascended the stairs and took a seat on Paris' frameless bed. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No," Paris lied. "I was just relaxing." He was wearing only a pair of gray running shorts and his hair was damp from the shower. Paris detected the scent of Cool Water as he sat down.

"Listen, Paris…don't let Synn and Nicole scare you. Synn's a good talker and Nicole, well…she's just a bitch. Neither one of them can touch you."

Paris laughed quietly. "I think Synn wants to do more than just touch me."

Adam chuckled as well. "When I say they can't touch you, I mean neither one of them is as hot or as sexy as you are."

Paris blushed slightly. "Adam, stop…"

"I'm serious. If you only knew what I wanted to do right now…"

"I can just imagine."

"Oh, really? What exactly were you imagining?" He leaned over her so that his arms were on either side of her.

Paris rolled her eyes playfully. "You probably just wanna get in my pants…," she teased, toying with the tiny hairs on his arm.

"And what's wrong with that?" Adam questioned, his gray eyes flashing seductively as he ran his finger along her smooth jaw.

Paris sighed.

"What?" Adam demanded.

"Nothing."

"Hey, at least, I'm honest," the Canadian replied, shrugging. "I want you, Paris, and I don't play games. I'm up-front and direct. I'm not like Paul and I'm definitely not like Orton."

Before Paris could respond, he leaned over and captured her lips, his tongue lightly sweeping her mouth. Paris gasped as she ran her hands along his bare chest, feeling his hard muscles tense at her touch. Just when she thought he was about to join her in her bed, Adam pulled back, running his hands through his hair.

"Why'd you stop?" Paris asked confused.

Adam smirked. He leaned over her again, pinning her wrists over her head. "Why? You want some more?" he whispered, his lips close to her ear.

"Maybe," Paris remarked with mock innocence.

Needing no further urging, Adam climbed on top of her, wedging his knee between her thighs. Releasing her wrists, he pushed her hockey jersey up over her hips, revealing her white lace thong and her new tattoo. Adam traced his finger over her stomach, gently pulling on her navel ring. Paris closed her eyes and moaned softly as he lightly grazed his finger over the cleft in her thong. Adam smiled with satisfaction as she arched her hips, the lacy material between her legs becoming increasingly warmer and damper. Adam knew, as he watched her part her thighs invitingly, that he could take her at that moment. She was more than ready and practically begging for it, but for some reason, he held off. Without warning, he drew back and rolled off of her so he was lying next to her staring at the low ceiling. He didn't know what it was. Maybe it was Synn's stinging barb about Orton and Trips…he didn't know. It wasn't in his character to have a gorgeous woman panting beneath him and not take advantage of the situation.

After several seconds, he heard Paris' breathing return to normal and finally, she spoke.

"Adam, why are you playing with me?"

"I'm not!" he snapped, suddenly defensive. "It's just that…I don't know what it is…it just didn't feel right. When it happens, I want it to be right."

Paris sighed, annoyed. "God, now you sound like Randy."

Adam's jaw twitched with irritation in the darkness as a bolt of anger shot through him over her unfair comparison to Randy Orton. Inhaling sharply, Adam rolled on top of her once again, pinning her beneath his weight.

"Don't ever…EVER…compare me to that worthless punk, Paris!" Adam snarled, his silvery eyes glittering in the dark. "I'm not Randy Orton…do you understand me?"

Paris nodded. She could tell that he was angry, but for some reason, she wasn't afraid. She knew he wanted her and she also knew that he wouldn't hurt her. Something in his eyes told her that he wasn't the type. She knew that Synn's comment had irked him, as it was meant to, and then, she only fanned the fire by comparing him to Randy. It was no wonder he was hurt. She decided to stroke his male ego, not willing to let Synn get under hers or Adam's skin.

"I understand," she said quietly as she ground her hips wantonly against him.

Adam's eyes softened, his mouth breaking into a smirk. He pushed his hips gently against her, making sure she could feel how hard he was.

Paris pouted. "I want more."

Adam grinned, his smile brilliant even in the dark. "Oh, there's more," he said before running his tongue sensually over her lower lip. "More than Orton could ever give you…or Paul for that matter. But only the first one's free. After that, you're gonna have to work for it a little."

"Is that so?"

Adam didn't answer, but instead, covered her mouth with his, his tongue probing insistently, his teeth gently biting her lower lip.

"I'll see you in the morning," the Canadian replied, releasing her lips and rising from the bed.

Without another word or a backward glance, he descended the stairs, leaving Paris lying on the bed, extremely confused and undoubtedly overheated. She turned onto her side and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the fact that her body was tingling all over and her lips were burning, longing to taste him one more time. Damn him for getting her all worked up and then, leaving. However, her anger was only fleeting. She smiled as she drifted off to sleep, the sound of Adam's shower running the only sound in the dark, quiet house.

Adam closed his eyes as icy rivulets of water coursed over his body, cooling his heated skin, quenching the fire Paris had aroused in him. He rested his head against the tile, his face breaking into that infamous Edge smile. He had her…it was in the bag. And as far as he was concerned, she wouldn't even know who Randy Orton and Paul Levesque were when he got done with her.

Evolution? Adam could definitely see the line in the sand.

**Please review. Sorry it's been so long…I've been conflicted as many of you know. Thank you to everyone who gave me all the kind and wise advice. I've decided to go ahead with the story as planned and maybe have Randy's true colors come out during the Diva search. WrestleMania kicked ass! Long live the Animal and the Doctor…May they rule well. Lots a love…**

**Evilution (is a mystery!)**


	5. Edgeucation

Chapter 5 – Edge-ucation

By Evilution

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the people, places, or things in this chapter. I own Paris, Tammy, and The Blue Bomb (I wish I owned a nightclub like that!) Thank you to everyone who reviewed…you guys are awesome! Sorry about the characterization of Ivory in this chapter…I truly like her, but I really didn't have a lot of inspiration on where to go with her character, so I decided to write her out. Besides, I read on a couple of websites that she kind of is the way I wrote her with new divas. I don't know if that's true, so I apologize in advance. Enjoy!

Warning: Beginning of smut…proceed with caution.

Paris closed her locker door quietly, her body threatening to succumb to utter exhaustion. It was late Friday afternoon and she had been training for two days straight. Her entire body ached and she had the ghastliest bruises all over the place, but she had managed to master some of the more basic bumps with the help of her fellow classmates. Daniel Puder and Brian Danovich both seemed to be taking extra time working with her. Of course, Puder used it as an opportunity to flirt with her, but Brian was genuinely nice and seemed to actually want to help. After working all day, she had finally conquered a more difficult bump, much to the pride of Big and Fit, who led the class in applauding her. Fit put a friendly arm around her shoulders and told her she had worked hard enough and to call it a day.

What happened next was like something out of a bad dream. Paris was in the women's locker room, gingerly trying to work some of the soreness out of her muscles when the door flew open and in walked Ivory. Ivory was Paris' other trainer, but Paris used the word 'trainer' very loosely, because ever since Ivory had arrived Thursday morning, she hadn't contributed much to Paris' training except sarcasm and constant criticism. It had gotten so bad that morning that Fit had to step in and remind Ivory that Paris had no prior wrestling experience whatsoever. Fit, then, disappeared for several minutes and after returning, told Ivory that Jim wanted to see her. Paris hadn't seen Ivory for the rest of the afternoon…that is until just now. The brunette diva was so angry, she looked like she was about to spit nails. Paris got the sinking feeling that Ivory's anger was headed straight her way.

"How dare you!" Ivory spat, striding across the locker room to get right in Paris' face. "You little backstabber!"

"What!" Paris exclaimed. "What did I do?"

"Your little whiny, crybaby attitude…oh, it hurts…oh, it's too hard…oh, Ivory's mean to me. Well, thanks to you, Jim's sending me back to WWE, which means house shows and maybe an occasional appearance on Heat!"

"I never complained to anyone about you!" Paris shot back.

"Oh, you didn't have to, sweetie," Ivory replied acidly. "All you have to do is flash your tits or show a little leg, and you've got Fit and all those boys out there falling all over you!"

"Look, if Fit said something to Jim, it had nothing to do with me! Obviously, all the kindness you've shown me over the last two days didn't go unnoticed! And you have been mean to me…don't deny it!"

"And what're you gonna do about it, Paris? You might think that screwing Triple H will get you whatever you want and it might…for a while. That's how girls like you usually make it in wrestling…by fucking your way to the top and disrespecting women like me who actually worked to earn their spot!"

"I've never once disrespected you, Ivory!" Paris stated, tears in her eyes. She couldn't believe how mean and bitter the woman was being. After all, she had been so nice when Paris had met her only a month ago. Of course, that was when Paris was just a travel coordinator…someone good enough to carry Ivory's luggage. Now, she was a WWE diva and a bonafide threat to Ivory's position.

"Your mere presence is disrespectful to me!" Ivory shouted as she grabbed Paris by the throat and slammed her into the lockers. "Make no mistake about it…you and I will meet again, you little slut! And you better pray when we do, that you've got Evolution backing you up. I mean, why wouldn't they back you up? You're fucking all of them, aren't you? Tell me, Paris…Trips, Orton, and Batista, do you take them on separately or all three at once?"

"That's enough, Ivory!" the shrill voice of Jim Cornette cut in. "Let her go!"

Ivory turned as Paris looked up to see Jim, Fit, Tammy, Katie, and a blond man she didn't know standing in the doorway. Ivory released her as Tammy and Katie rushed over to see if she was OK.

"Katie was heading to the locker room with some new outfits for you when she heard her threatening you, so she came and got us," Tammy explained, her arm around Paris' shoulders.

Paris vaguely noticed Daniel, Brian, Chris, and Ryan hovering in the hallway.

"We're a family here, Ivory," the blond man stated. "We don't use intimidation and threats to control our new recruits. You can pack your things and leave. And rest assured, Vince will be informed of this behavior."

Ivory glared at everyone in the room, her final look of contempt resting on Paris.

"Fine!" Ivory spat. "I don't need any of you fucks anyway!" She grabbed her bag and stomped toward the door, stopping to glare at Katie, of all people. Obviously, Ivory was angry that Katie had been the one who summoned the troops.

"I don't know what the hell John Cena ever saw in you," the brunette diva snapped at the diminutive designer. "I bet his dick's in someone else before your plane even lands in New York."

With a final snort of derision, Ivory exited the locker room, shoving Daniel out of her way as she left. Paris was just starting to calm down when the blond man approached her, his face kind.

"Paris, I'm sorry about that," he apologized. "We've suspected that Ivory's been treating girls like this for a while. Hopefully, Vince won't send her back here until her attitude shapes up. I'm Danny Davis, by the way."

"Nice to meet you," Paris said, shaking his hand. "I'm sorry…I…I wasn't complaining to anyone…"

Danny held up his hand, halting her apology. "I know you didn't. Fit told me how she was acting when she showed up yesterday. Like I said, she's been doing this for a while."

"So who's gonna train her now?" Tammy asked as Jim approached.

"Well, Fit can handle her wrestling training," Danny said.

"But who's gonna do her diva training?" Tammy went on, her voice becoming edged with that all-too-familiar tone of stress that was unique to Tammy.

"I guess that would be you, doll," Jim told her.

"Me?" Tammy exclaimed. "What the hell do I know about being a diva?"

Jim snorted. "You know a hell of a lot more than most divas do! You're out there, you know what the fans want, you know what the wrestlers want…you're perfect!"

"Jim, you know how busy I am…"

"Tammy, girl, it's only for a few months."

"No, Jim, I can't do it! You're gonna have to find someone else…I'm just too busy!"

"What if I hire you an assistant…to help with your other duties?" Jim offered.

"We don't need to do that," Danny said. "I'm done traveling for a while. I'm gonna be here more and I'll be more hands on. I can take some of Tammy's duties until Paris is trained."

"Then, it's settled!" Jim chortled, smacking his hands together. "OK, people, let's get back to work."

Danny and Jim bid Paris goodbye before leaving with Fit and Big. The Tough Enough guys headed back to their locker room and Katie went back to wardrobe after receiving multiple thanks from Paris for overhearing Ivory.

"I'm sorry," Paris said, noticing the creases on Tammy's forehead, which indicated that the executive assistant was feeling the stress. "I don't mean to be a burden."

Tammy shook her head, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "No, it's not you, Paris. Seriously…we want you to be trained right…but you better get ready to be worked, chica, because if you thought Ivory was bad…"

Paris laughed as she saw the corners of Tammy's mouth turn up in a smile. She got the feeling that her training had just taken a whole new turn.

"Are you ready for tonight?" the executive assistant asked.

"Oh, I'm more than ready…especially after the week I've had."

"I'll stop by the house about seven," Tammy went on. "Jeff and I are going to dinner if you and Adam wanna go, too?"

Paris was momentarily distracted at the thought of someone thinking of her and Adam as a couple. "I'll see what Adam wants to do…what should I wear?"

"The Blue Bomb's pretty casual…it all depends if you wanna get laid or not."

"I see," Paris said, laughing. "Well, I'm gonna go home and cool off a little, maybe take a nap…I'll see you about seven?"

Tammy bid her goodbye as Paris shouldered her gear and headed out to the Durango. Adam and Jeff were sparring in the gym, so Paris stopped by to see if they were ready to leave. Jeff had a distinct advantage on Adam and didn't want to lose his momentum, so he told Paris to go ahead home, that he and Adam would get a lift from Tammy. Paris said goodbye and went home, where she stripped off her workout gear and laid on the bed, thinking about what happened with Ivory. Paris couldn't understand why everywhere she went, she seemed to make enemies. What was it about her that caused women like Sarah and Nicole and Ivory to hate her? It couldn't all be about Triple H…or could it? She knew that was at the root of Nicole's hostility and jealousy, but what about Sarah and Ivory? She came to the conclusion that Sarah was just an insecure person who had to make others look bad to feel good about herself and Ivory was simply an aging diva who was scared of losing her position to someone younger, prettier, and more popular. The more she thought about it, the sleepier she got, and before she knew it, she had drifted off to sleep.

Paris awoke a couple hours later to the sound of Jeff and Adam moving around downstairs. Jeff called up the stairs to make sure she was there and awake. Paris rose, groggily at first, but then, slowly became more oriented with her surroundings. She put on a robe and ran herself a hot, bubble bath. While she was soaking, Adam came upstairs and handed her a glass of water and a couple ibuprofen. Paris didn't protest his presence as the bubbles covered anything too private. Adam had heard what a rough day she'd had and was determined to make her feel better. He seemed unfazed that she was naked, feeling a little more familiar with her after what had happened between them a couple nights ago. He sat down on the edge of the tub and began to rub her neck, his strong fingers kneading out the knots and tension.

"Mmm…God, Adam, you're gonna make me come just doing that," Paris joked, she too feeling a little more familiar with her handsome Canadian friend. True, they had yet to talk about what happened, but it seemed a barrier had been broken.

Adam chuckled, continuing his ministrations, running both of his hands over her slick shoulders. "I guess I'm lucky it doesn't take much to please you."

Paris laughed. "Are you saying I'm easy, Copeland?"

"I wish," Adam snorted. "It just seems to me that the tiniest little things amuse you. Of course, that would explain your fascination with Randy Orton."

"Oh, you're funny," Paris quipped, glancing over her shoulder and giving him a withering look.

"I'm sorry…that was a low blow. I shouldn't speak ill of the man you love."

"But you will anyway," Paris retorted.

"Sorry, I just don't like him."

Paris shook her head. Macho male machismo. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't escape it.

"Where do you wanna have dinner, stud muffin?" she asked, shifting gears.

Adam grinned at the 'stud muffin' comment before responding. "I thought we could just go to Senor Frog's with Jeff and Tammy. It's casual…pizza, Mexican, margaritas…sound good?"

"Mmm…I'm starved, but you have to leave so I can call Tammy and find out what she's wearing."

"Can't I stay and wash your back?" Adam offered.

"No, thanks."

"How about your front then?"

"Shoo!" Paris demanded, splashing water on his leg.

Adam smirked as he rose to leave, pausing briefly to lean over and give Paris a quick kiss on the lips. Paris kissed him back before flicking soap suds in his face. Adam reacted by reaching over, grabbing her ankle, and practically pulling her under water before running out of the bathroom followed by a shower of water and some colorful oaths from Paris.

About an hour later, Paris came downstairs to find Adam and Jeff as well as Tammy waiting for her. Paris was wearing vintage jeans with a thick black belt and a waist so low, it was almost obscene. Her top was a strapless black bustier covered with tiny pink flowers and she had on a matching black choker with a little pink flower in the middle. Chunky black sandals adorned her feet, her pink polished toes peeking out. Her shoulders and chest sparkled with shimmering Jessica #3 lotion, a cloud of the same scent following her into the room.

"How do I look?" she asked, hoping she hadn't gone too casual.

"You look great," Tammy said as Jeff handed Adam a tissue, indicating it was to wipe the drool off of his chin.

Adam gave Jeff the finger as he rose and slid his arm around Paris' waist. She leaned into him, wondering what this sudden flood of attention, touchy feelies, and PDAs meant.

Tammy looked equally stunning in a sexy black halter top, high-heeled black slip-ons, and a vintage denim skirt that stopped at her knees, but had a split clear up to her mid-thigh. The boys also played it casual…Jeff in black cargos, a wife beater, and, a dark blue silk shirt, and Adam in jeans and a beige shirt rolled up at the sleeves and open at the neck. He was also wearing a black necklace with a sun symbol, resembling his tattoo, and a pair of gray sunglasses even though the sun was almost set. All in all, Paris had to admit to herself that he looked very doable to say the least. After some last minute planning, they decided to take separate vehicles to Senor Frog's with Tammy tossing Jeff the keys to her Cavalier while Adam climbed behind the wheel of the Durango.

"You look hot," Paris commented, breaking the silence.

Adam smiled slightly, the lights from the console giving away his features. "Do I?"

"You know you do," Paris replied impatiently yet jokingly.

He chuckled, trying to get her riled up a little. It turned him on when she got feisty.

"Are we a little pissed off or something, Paris?" Adam asked teasingly.

Paris sulked slightly. "You haven't even told me I look nice."

"Because you don't," Adam said, his voice emotionless.

"Excuse me?" Paris shot back, turning to look at him. He was still smiling, that annoying Edge smile.

"You heard me."

Paris snorted, crossing her arms in front of her. "See if I ever try to look special for you again." Apparently, she had been wrong about Adam Copeland. He was an asshole, just like practically every other man she knew and a few women to boot.

Now, it was Adam's turn to snort as he swerved the Durango across two lanes of traffic to pull off to the shoulder amidst angry honking and shouting.

"Are you fucking crazy?" Paris shouted, turning to face him once again.

"Like I give a fuck…they'll get over it," Adam responded.

Ignoring her outrage, he reached over and unlocked Paris' seat belt, and in one swift motion, pulled her onto his lap, crushing her against his hard chest.

"As I was saying," he went on, his lips inches from hers. "You don't look nice…in fact, you look far from nice, Paris. You look…naughty, very naughty. Not to mention nasty and sexy and it makes me wanna fuck you hardcore right on the front seat of this car."

Paris gasped. Damn, he was direct. It was funny how she had thought Randy and Paul were such bad boys, but apparently, they were nothing compared to Adam. He was brutally honest, completely sexy, maybe a little cold, definitely raunchy…and he turned her on to no end. She was actually picturing him doing her right on the freeway when suddenly, his cell phone rang, interrupting her sweaty fantasy.

"Fuck!" Adam spat, reaching for the offending object. "Probably Jeff thinking we got in a wreck or something." He released Paris as she slid back into her seat.

Adam glanced at his cell phone, recognizing the number and it definitely wasn't Jeff. He knew he couldn't ignore it, but he also couldn't let Paris know who it was.

"Hello?"

"The week's almost up, lover boy…you seal the deal yet?" Paul Levesque's voice mocked, laced with disbelief. If he only knew, Adam thought.

"Hey, how's it going, man?" Adam said jovially, glancing at Paris. "It's funny you should mention that because I think you know the answer."

Paul was slightly shocked to put it mildly. He knew how Adam operated, but he didn't really think Paris would be that easy of a conquest. Maybe he had misjudged her.

"Already?" The Cerebral Assassin exclaimed, trying to hide his jealousy. "I guess I created a monster."

"Listen, Jay, I gotta go…I'm on a date, OK?"

Paul chuckled. "A date? With Paris? Is she there now?"

"Yeah, we're on the freeway."

"Lemme talk to her."

"Absolutely not," Adam snorted.

"Why? Afraid I might change her mind about you? Don't kid yourself, Adam…she only has room in her heart for Orton. I know it and you know it."

"Look, Jay…I said I have to go," Adam replied impatiently.

"Copeland…wait!"

"What?"

"If you hurt her…"

"Like you and others we won't mention did…"

"I don't think I have to finish my sentence," The Game warned. Shit, he hated sounding weak…and over a woman, for Christ's sake.

"Whatever, man. I'll call you later. Goodbye."

Adam disconnected the phone and smiled at Paris.

"That was Jay?" she asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, he was calling to hassle me about this wager we have on a hockey game. Sorry about that…where were we?"

"You were about to…how did you put it...fuck me hardcore on the front seat?"

Adam laughed softly. "Oh, yeah, now I remember. What do you say we have dinner first?"

Paris smiled. "I can handle that."

Adam leaned over and kissed her quickly before putting the SUV in gear and pulling back onto the freeway. What the fuck was the deal with Levesque? Why in the hell was he so concerned about Paris all of the sudden? Less than a week ago, he'd been more than eager to tell Adam all the gory details about how he fucked Paris six degrees from midnight, but now, he was worried about her? And threatening Adam in that oh-so-Triple H way of his not to hurt the flavor of the week? A frightening thought popped into Adam's head. What if Paul Levesque was developing a conscience? Jesus, what was the world coming to?

When they got to Senor Frog's, Tammy and Jeff had been waiting for close to twenty minutes and feared their friends had been in an accident or something. Dinner was very pleasant with Jeff and Adam regaling Tammy and Paris with tales of their legendary TLC matches, which also included Matt, Jay, and two of Paris' old 'favorites,' The Dudley Boys. Tammy was shocked to learn that Matt, Jeff, and Lita had made a brief appearance in OVW once for a match with the Disciples of Synn. It just so happened that she had been on vacation, so her claim to Paris that Jeff had never been to OVW wasn't completely accurate. It was just that he and Tammy had never crossed paths.

After dinner and a couple pitchers of margaritas, which had been drank exclusively by Paris and Tammy, the two couples headed to The Blue Bomb. Jeff and Adam were OK to drive with Jeff drinking only soda and Adam only consuming one beer. When they entered the club, Paris' eyes lit up. Finally, she was in her kind of a hangout. The ground floor was scattered with tables, the focal point being a huge dance floor with three poles—two on each side, mounted on boxes that people were dancing on, and one in the center that people were swinging on, stripper style. The karaoke machine and DJ were set up on an elevated stage where performers had to stand while displaying their singing talents. The upper level contained several VIP rooms and quite a few tables with plush armchairs and couches. Jeff and Tammy found a table close to the bar as Paris spotted Alexis, Joey, Jillian, Matt, and a couple of her classmates.

A couple hours and several drinks later, Paris was tearing it up on the dance floor, swinging around the stripper poles like a pro. During one song, she actually flipped herself up on the pole and slid down it, upside down, before flipping over and wrapping herself around the pole, landing perfectly on her feet. She was never without a dance partner. If it wasn't Adam or Jeff, it was Daniel, Chris, or Brian. It they weren't available, she and Tammy simply danced with Alexis and Jillian. Of course, Tammy kept ditching her to duck outside for a smoke. The executive assistant wasn't normally a smoker, but she'd had a particularly stressful week what with Paris' arrival, a budding relationship with Jeff, Ivory being fired, and taking over Paris' diva training, not to mention Katie quitting. It had all culminated that morning at the beloved designer's going-away party. Fit had allowed Paris to step away from training for a few minutes to say goodbye to Katie, amidst loud complaining from Ivory that Paris needed all the work she could get. As Katie made her goodbye speech, the usually cool and composed executive assistant rushed from the room, tears streaming out of her blue eyes and down her cheeks. Paris followed and tried to console her before Ivory arrived and rudely told Paris to get back to work…but not too rudely as she was saying it in front of Tammy. Paris glanced around the dance floor, trying to spot her friend just as she saw Tammy heading out the door. Paris pushed her way through the crowd, narrowly missing an encounter with Tammy's friend, Sean O'Haire, who had been watching her all night, his interest particularly piqued when she was sliding up and down the pole. Adam was at the bar with Jeff and Joey, so Paris figured she wouldn't be missed.

"I thought I'd find you out here," Paris said, turning the corner into the parking lot.

Tammy glanced up, but didn't answer. She lit her cigarette and inhaled deeply.

"Are you OK?" Paris went on, moving to stand across from Tammy as she leaned on the Durango.

Tammy shook her head. "I quit smoking two years ago!" she exclaimed, holding up the cigarette. "But it seems like that's all I've done tonight. I even made Jeff stop so I could buy a pack. God, look at me…I'm falling apart!"

"Look, Tammy, if this has anything to do with me and Ivory, I'm sorry."

"No, it's not that. I mean I want you to be trained right and that wasn't gonna happen with Ivory's attitude. It's just that Jim pisses me off the way he just expects me to take on more shit without help. I'm glad Danny stepped in or I was about to tell him to shove this job right up his ass! Then, I guess Katie leaving really got to me…and for some reason, it bothered me what Ivory said about Cena…"

"Yeah, that was pretty rude," Paris agreed. "If there's anything I can do to make this easier…"

Tammy laughed. "I have a feeling you're not gonna have any problem with becoming a diva. I think it comes naturally for you."

"Look who's talking," Paris chuckled as she took the cigarette from Tammy's hand. "I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or not," she quipped, taking a quick puff.

"I didn't know you smoked."

"I don't. I used to."

"Well, give it back…you're in training, remember?"

"Oh, yeah…that's right," Paris said before inhaling one last time and flicking the cigarette to the ground.

"Hey, I was gonna finish that."

"Yeah, well, it's not good for you either. Crap, now I need some gum or something."

"Got it covered," Tammy said, opening her purse and handing Paris a stick of chewing gum before taking one for herself. "Perfume?" the exec assistant offered, holding up a bottle of Calvin Klein Eternity.

"Got it covered," Paris replied, dousing herself with Jessica #3 as Tammy did the same with her Eternity.

"Come on, I need another drink," Tammy laughed, grabbing Paris by the arm. As they were heading back, they saw Sean O'Haire exit the bar and walk off down the street. "Must not be any easy targets tonight," Tammy quipped.

As they reentered the club, Paris' eyes scanned the room, searching for Adam. She didn't see him anywhere, but as she was crossing the dance floor, she felt pressure on her rear end. Normally if someone touched her butt, she would have wheeled around and slapped the toucher, or at least, told them off. However, something told her it was Adam. Maybe it was his scent, or his larger-than-life presence…she didn't know. Turning, she looked up to meet his stormy gray eyes.

"Where were you?" he asked, his lips touching her ear, his hair tickling her shoulder.

"I went to find Tammy," Paris replied innocently. She could have sworn he was jealous.

"Let's dance," he suggested, increasing the pressure on her butt.

Paris handed her purse to Tammy, who made her way toward Jeff as Adam led Paris to the middle of the dance floor. Paris grabbed the pole and swung around it several times as Adam circled her, his movements cat-like. Paris held onto the pole and leaned backward, pressing her back against Adam's chest. He slid his arm around her waist, his fingers grazing the bare skin above her jeans. Paris sighed and spun around, her eyes meeting his as he pinned her back against the pole. Adam molded his body against Paris, her breasts crushing against his chest, their hips melding together. Adam could feel her heat and he knew she could tell how aroused he was. He ran his hands along her sides, cupping her breasts, letting his thumbs graze over her nipples, teasing them into hardened peaks. Adam moved in to lock lips with her, but Paris teasingly ducked under his arm and swung around the pole, sliding provocatively up and down its length, the cold steel between her breasts. Adam watched her, his eyes filled with lust as he imagined her lithe, limber body wrapped around him in a multitude of positions.

Paris smiled sensually as the song ended and clasped Adam's hand, pulling him with her as she made her way toward Tammy and Jeff. However, Adam wasn't satisfied with simply holding hands…he wanted to be as close to her as possible. Releasing her hand, he wound his arm around her back, his hand resting enticingly on the curve of her breast.

"Jeff ordered shots," Tammy announced as the blond couple approached the table. "Lemon drops."

Removing her gum, Paris grabbed one of the shots and after clinking glasses with Tammy, downed the shot of chilled vodka. Although he had ordered the shots, Jeff was still nursing his soda, apparently choosing to stay sober amidst all the rowdiness. Paris winced at the bite of the vodka and quickly seized the other shot, which was meant for Adam, and threw it down as well before sucking on a sugar-coated lemon slice.

"Damn, girl!" Tammy exclaimed as Paris grabbed her purse to touch up her lip gloss.

"That was my shot, you little wench!" the Canadian joked, pulling her against him. If she got any more intoxicated, this was gonna be easier than he thought.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Paris giggled. "What can I do to make it up to you?" she teased suggestively.

Adam grinned lasciviously as the waitress set a shot of golden liquid in front of Jeff.

"Compliments of the gentleman in the black shirt," she said, indicating Joey Matthews. "He says you need to loosen up and do a shot with your friends." She proceeded to set a salt shaker and a napkin full of lime slices next to the shot. Jeff lifted the glass toward Joey and shook his head before handing it to Adam.

"He knows I don't do tequila," the Hardy brother protested. "Besides, I decided to be DD tonight."

Adam sniffed the shot, not quite sure if he wanted to get started on tequila or not. Every time he and Jay and Jericho drank tequila, they got into trouble. In fact, that was usually when Jericho's alter ego, Drunkacho, came out. But it was just one shot and he didn't plan on doing any more as he had other plans for the rest of the night.

"Hey, Paris, you up for a body shot?" he asked playfully.

"Here or should we go somewhere private?" she challenged.

Adam smirked. "My kinda girl. Here's fine."

Reaching over, Adam plucked one of the lime slices from the table and placed it between Paris' teeth. Leaning down, he ran his tongue along the deep crevice of her cleavage before sprinkling salt on her skin and licking that off as well. Throwing back the shot, he took the lime wedge from her mouth, his lips lightly brushing hers.

"Mmm…hot," Adam said as Paris removed the lime rind from his mouth and locked her lips with his. Adam kissed her back deeply, his tongue sweeping her mouth, his hand clamping on her ass so as to press her as close to him as possible.

Jeff cleared his throat, hoping to politely interrupt the passionate exchange, as Tammy gaped at the couple, her mouth hanging open in surprise.

"God, get a room!" Jeff joked.

"That's a good idea," Adam breathed, separating from Paris as he eyed her lustfully. "You wanna go up to my VIP room, Paris?"

"What VIP room?" Jeff asked, curious. Tammy remained quiet, still too stunned to speak that her new friend was this close to hooking up with the most disreputable wrestler in OVW.

Adam didn't answer, but simply turned and cocked his eyebrow at the younger Hardy as he guided Paris to the upper level, his hand firmly on the small of her back.

"We should stop this," Tammy commented once they were out of earshot. "We both know how Adam is."

"What can we do?" Jeff responded. "They're both adults and…"

"She's practically innocent! He'll chew her up and spit her out!"

Jeff snorted. "I hardly think so. I mean she did take on Triple H and she doesn't seem to be much worse for the wear after that."

"Well, that's a real shitty thing to say."

"Look, Tammy, I'm sorry, but Adam's my friend. Now, I'm not so naïve as to not know what he's up to, but it's none of our business!"

"But Paris is my friend and…"

"And she's a big girl," Jeff reminded her. "You can't mother everyone, T. She has to make her own decisions…and mistakes."

Tammy sighed. "I suppose you're right, but…"

"But what?"

"I know it's none of my business, but…"

"Look, Adam might be a horn dog, and he might be morally reprehensible, and he might even be a total degenerate, but he won't hurt her…not physically anyway…I know that for a fact."

"Oh, that makes me feel so much better," Tammy remarked dryly.

"Come on, T…"

"Just tell me she'll be OK?"

"She'll be fine…I promise."

Tammy nodded, not completely reassured, but she knew Adam Copeland well enough to know that Jeff was right. She also knew that Paris wasn't stupid. Her experiences with Paul Levesque and Randy Orton had opened her eyes to a lot of things. She had learned enough not to rush into anything unprepared.

"You wanna go over to my place?" Tammy suggested. "We could watch a movie or something? Katie left today, so I've got the whole place to myself."

Jeff smiled, sipping his soda. "Are you coming on to me?"

"I said we could watch a movie…"

"Or something? Did you or did you not say 'or something'?"

Tammy smiled teasingly. "Let's go, Hardy…before I change my mind."

Jeff held Tammy's chair as she rose and taking the last sip of her cocktail, grabbed her purse and Jeff's hand, pulling him toward the exit. Before leaving, Tammy let Alexis and Jillian know where Paris was and to let the newest diva know that she had left with Jeff.

Meanwhile, Paris was trying to catch her breath as Adam trailed his lips along her neck, his teeth gently nipping her soft skin. They had managed to find an empty sofa in a dark corner of the upper VIP area. They were completely secluded, obscured from everyone else's view, a half-empty bottle of expensive champagne and two glasses sitting on the table in front of them. Adam was lounging leisurely on the couch with Paris straddling his hips, her long legs bent at either side of him. Paris threw her head back and rocked her hips against Adam as he squeezed her breasts, pushing them together and burying his face in her deep cleavage.

"You better not be trying to win a bet with someone," Paris murmured as Adam's lips moved from her breasts back up to her neck.

Adam paused, drawing back from her, his silvery gray eyes meeting her violet ones. That was about the third or fourth time she had mentioned him making a bet and he was confused, if not a little annoyed. Where was this train of thought coming from?

"Paris, why do you think I'd make a bet over you?" he questioned, his eyes boring into her.

"Why do you wanna know?" she retorted.

Adam chuckled softly. "Well, it's just that you've brought it up like three times and I'm curious…"

"Oh, you're curious?" Paris scoffed disbelievingly. "Don't play dumb, Adam. Like I'm supposed to believe you don't know…"

"Know what?" he snapped, a little defensive at her accusatory tone.

Paris snorted. "Don't try and tell me that Paul didn't tell you about the bet," she replied sarcastically.

"What bet?"

Paris searched his eyes, trying to decipher if he was playing with her or not. His look told her that he genuinely didn't know what she was talking about. Was it possible that Paul hadn't told him? Feeling foolish, Paris shifted gears, pressing her body against him invitingly.

"It's nothing," she laughed tipsily. "I didn't mean to sound rude. It's no big deal…really."

She leaned forward, touching her soft lips to his neck, but Adam grabbed her arms, gently pushing her away.

"What bet?" he demanded.

Paris sighed. "I figured Paul told you. That's what happened between me and Randy."

Adam inhaled impatiently. "Explain…now!"

"Paul and Randy and Dave made a bet over who could sleep with me. That's why Randy wouldn't have sex with me…he said he didn't want to take my virginity on a bet. I got frustrated and pissed off and I broke up with him. After I hooked up with Paul, I heard them talking about it. I just felt so used and…"

Much to her shame and dismay, Paris started to cry, a tiny teardrop sliding down her cheek.

"I mean…I thought Randy loved me…" she sobbed.

"Ssh…ssh…come here," Adam soothed, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against his chest. "What a shitty, immature thing to do! I can't believe Paul would be so stupid!" He smirked over her shoulder, certain he was gaining points for showing sympathy. The surprise came naturally as this was the first he had heard of that particular aspect of the story.

Paris sat up and stared at the blond Canadian, tears sparkling in her violet eyes.

"You really didn't know, did you?"

Adam sighed. "Paris, I haven't been completely honest," he told her in a self-effacing tone. "When I told you that I didn't know you hooked up with Paul…that wasn't entirely true. Of course, he told me, but he wasn't disrespectful…he really did say those nice things about you…and he never mentioned a bet." Adam couldn't fathom why he was sticking up for Paul, especially after that phone call earlier. Obviously, The Game still thought he had some vested interest where Paris was concerned.

"Why did you lie to me?" Paris asked, her tone hurt.

"I don't know. I was attracted to you and I didn't want to get off on the wrong foot. I didn't want you to think I liked you because you gave it up for Paul. I just can't believe he'd initiate something so…classless."

"Yeah, well, he didn't initiate it…Randy did."

"Oh."

"Yeah. So…where were we?"

"What?"

"Where were we?"

Adam laughed. "You mean you're not pissed?"

"Oh, I'm pissed," Paris teased. "But I'm not stupid. I know how you boys are…you can't resist bragging or one-upping each other. I suspected that he told you, and you were just being polite."

"I honestly didn't know about the bet."

"I know. Of course, he's not gonna tell you that and risk making himself look bad."

"So, it was Orton's idea?"

"Yeah."

"What a prick," Adam said, snorting bitterly.

"Yeah."

Adam noticed that the second time Paris agreed, her eyes were downcast, her tone melancholy.

"You still love him, don't you?"

Paris breathed in sharply. "No…I…"

"Don't lie," Adam demanded, his fingers stroking her back softly.

"OK, fine…I love him, but…"

"But what?"

"It's pointless. It's…time for me to move on. It's time for…" She paused, seeming to be gathering her thoughts. "I thought you were trying to seduce me?"

Adam smiled, his grin infamous. "Trying was the key word," he remarked. So what if she loved Orton? After tonight, she wouldn't even remember who RKO was. Adam had every intention of killing the legend.

"Well, keep trying," Paris whispered as she lightly stroked the crotch of his jeans. Leaning over, she touched her lips to his neck, tracing the ball of her tongue piercing along his tanned skin.

Adam wound his hand in her fragrant, blond hair, gently pulling her head up so their eyes could meet. Remaining silent, he captured her lips in a hot, sensual, lingering kiss that left Paris breathless and wanting more, any anger or mistrust toward him a fleeting memory. Adam aroused her beyond limits and his bad boy reputation only fanned the flames. As much as she tried to deny it, she wanted him. She didn't care what he knew about her or his connection to Paul. All she wanted was for him to be buried deep inside of her and she decided not to be shy about letting him know.

"Paris…" Adam breathed, breaking the kiss. "You're so hot…I …"

"Do you want me, Adam?" She rotated her hips, feeling his erection through his jeans. "Mmm…I guess that's a yes. What do you like, Adam? What do you want me to do?"

Adam grinned wickedly, his hands roaming her body as she continued to practically dry-hump him right there on the sofa.

"Say something dirty," he whispered.

"Like what?"

"Anything."

Paris laughed. "Adam, I'm not good at stuff like this. I've never…"

"Well, it's time you learned. I like my women to be…open to just about anything, maybe a little slutty sometimes. Oh…and one other thing?"

"Yeah?"

"I like to be in charge. Now, say something dirty."

"I…I don't know what to say…"

Adam sighed. "OK, I'll start." He pulled her close, kissing her neck, tracing the outer shell of her ear with his tongue. "You've got the most amazing rack I've ever seen," he whispered seductively. "I can't wait to peel that little top off…"

"Mmm…and then what?" she asked breathlessly, arching her back so that her breasts were pressed firmly into his hands.

Adam chuckled deep in the back of his throat. "No, no, no…I took my turn. Now, it's your turn."

Paris cleared her throat, pressing against him so that her lips were next to his ear. She couldn't look him in the eye and talk raunchy…she was too embarrassed.

"While we're on the subject of amazing," Paris whispered. "I can tell just by sitting on your lap how big your…cock is. I can just imagine it inside of me…"

"Can you?" Adam interrupted, teasing.

"Mmm hmm," Paris replied, hoping that he couldn't tell that she was blushing to the roots of her hair.

"You wanna know what I'm imagining?" Adam said, lightly running his fingers along her arms and back.

"Hmm?" Paris murmured, meeting his eyes.

Adam chuckled. "You…sliding up and down my cock like you were with that pole."

"Would you like that?" Paris teased, her lower lip sticking out becomingly.

"Yeah, I'd like that a lot," Adam told her in somewhat of a challenging tone. He toyed with her thong, which was showing above the waistband of her pants, pulling it so that it rubbed erotically back and forth. Paris thought she would go insane with excitement.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" she managed to choke out.

"I thought you'd never ask," Adam said, sliding out from under her and then, pulling her to her feet. He kissed her one last time before firmly clamping his arm around her waist once again and escorting her downstairs.

Paris didn't see Tammy and Jeff anywhere, but honestly, her friends' whereabouts were the least of her concerns. They had a separate vehicle, so it wasn't as if they were stranded. Paris just hoped that they hadn't gone back to the house for a rendezvous, possibly ruining her tryst with Adam. No, that couldn't happen…she wouldn't let it happen. As they left the club, Paris realized that she didn't even stop and talk to Lexi and Jillian. She vaguely remembered Daniel and Chris bidding her goodnight, but she couldn't remember if she bothered to respond. God, now they probably think I'm stuck up, she thought. Unfortunately, at that moment, she didn't really care what anyone thought, except Adam. All she wanted to do was get home, so she could feel Adam's hands and mouth and body all over hers.

Adam was equally distracted, ignoring several comments and bidding goodnight from well-meaning coworkers. Jeff, you stupid fuck…you better have gone to Tammy's place, he thought. As he held the car door for Paris and then, climbed behind the wheel, the only thought on his mind was getting home and completely fucking Paris senseless. Then, all doubt would be erased, along with memories of Randy Orton. Synn could take her little comments about Orton and Trips and shove them where the sun didn't shine, as far as Adam was concerned. He had Paris…she was his now to do with as he pleased.

Let the Edge-ucation begin.

**Sorry to cut it short, but if I included the smut, it would have been entirely too long. I'll post the next chapter within the week. So what do you think? Do they hook up in a sweaty, dirty sense? Please read and review… Luvs…**

**-----Evilution**


	6. Friends with Benefits

Chapter 6 – Friends…with Benefits

By Evilution

**Disclaimer:** Of course, I disclaim. Anything that you recognize, I don't own it. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and who has been so supportive of this sequel…you know who you are.

**Warning:** As promised, extreme smut ahead…drive carefully.

**When we left off, Adam and ****Paris**** had just left the bar with plans to go home and…you know…**

Adam drove quickly, but safely, remaining silent the entire trip. When they got to the house, he jumped out of the Durango and opened Paris' door, practically dragging her out of the front seat. Slamming the door, he pinned Paris against the vehicle, kissing her roughly, his tongue plunging into her mouth. Paris gasped as the freezing cold glass of the car window touched her bare back, causing her nipples to tighten almost painfully…a fact that didn't go unnoticed by Adam. He ran his thumbs torturously across the hard buds, secretly enjoying that his actions caused Paris to squirm uncontrollably and thrust her hips wantonly against him. Gripping her taut thighs, Adam lifted Paris up and smirked sardonically as she wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles at the small of his back. With great ease, Adam carried her up the front walk, slamming her back into the door as he fumbled to find the right key, his lips never leaving hers. Finally, the door opened and the entwined couple practically fell into the living room.

Regaining his balance, Adam set Paris on the large marble coffee table as he threw his keys across the room and began struggling with his shirt. Paris tried to help, but the small buttons became annoying, so he just pulled the garment over his head and tossed it in the same direction as his keys. Paris ran her hands across his muscled chest, her nails lightly raking, her fingertips teasing his already hard nipples. Adam inhaled sharply as she trailed her lips down his neck, across his rock-hard pectoral muscle to swirl her tongue erotically around the nipple. Catching a handful of her hair, Adam pulled her head back and clamped his mouth onto hers, his kiss hard and demanding. With his free hand, he unzipped her top and pulled it off, sending it flying to the floor. Paris arched her back, offering her breasts up to him as she used her legs to pull him roughly against her. God, I'm acting like a whore, she thought fleetingly. But Adam didn't seem to mind. In fact, her whole bad girl routine was really getting him off.

"This is an interesting little accessory," Adam murmured as he cupped her breasts, noticing her nipple piercing for the first time.

Paris was about to respond when suddenly, he yanked harshly on her barbell, causing her to yelp with pain.

"Oww…bastard!" she complained, slapping his arm lightly.

"Oh…did that hurt?" Adam mocked. "Here…let me make it better."

Before Paris could protest, he pushed her firmly back on the coffee table and lowered his head to her left breast, drawing the throbbing bud into his mouth, where he sensually sucked and nibbled until the pain had subsided and Paris was thrashing wildly beneath him, moaning his name. Pulling back, Adam moved onto her right breast where he performed the same torturous actions until Paris thought she would go crazy with wanting.

Smiling with satisfaction, Adam straightened himself and pulled her to her feet so that she was standing in front of him. Paris' eyelids fluttered and she desperately tried not to lose her balance.

"Adam…" she whispered.

"Ssh…I know…you don't have to say it." He paused. "But I wanna hear you say it."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Tell me what you want."

Paris lowered her eyes. "I want you…"

"You want me to what?" Adam demanded, gripping her chin and forcing her to look at him.

"I want you to…I…I want you…inside of me…" Her voice was barely a whisper.

Adam sighed. She definitely needed some work. Of course, acting slutty didn't always come naturally to little rich girls like Paris. Obviously, she needed to be taught how to act like a whore. Adam smirked. He couldn't wait for the first lesson to begin.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" he asked, running his finger along her jaw and down to her left breast, which he cupped in his hand, toying slowly and deliberately with her nipple piercing.

"Yes," Paris whispered.

"I can't hear you!" Adam snapped.

"Yes!"

"Hard?" he continued.

"What?"

"Do you want me to fuck you hard?" he questioned, speaking slowly as if she were deaf. "You might as well say yes because that's what you're gonna get."

Paris gaped at him, shocked that he was being so forceful and demanding. He was actually being kind of an asshole, but before she could control it, her head was nodding yes.

Adam chuckled. "I thought so."

Paris reached for him, expecting him to take her into his arms and either carry her to his bedroom or at least, to the couch, but what happened next wasn't at all what she expected and she certainly wasn't prepared for it.

It all seemed like slow motion, but in reality, it only took a matter of seconds. Adam spun her around and bent her over the coffee table, using his body weight to pin her against it, forcing her legs apart. Paris yelped slightly as her breasts and stomach met the icy marble, shocking her system. Before she knew what was happening, Adam had undone her jeans and pushed them down to her ankles. Paris attempted to protest, but was only met with Adam's hand pressing between her shoulder blades, forcing her down to the table.

"Let me up, you ass!" Paris shouted, trying to struggle out from under his hand.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it, Princess?" the Canadian mocked.

Paris gasped as she felt his finger sliding slowly between her ass cheeks. She flinched as the aforementioned finger teased her slightly before hooking her thong and jerking it off with a snap. Adam held the torn, wet piece of satin to his nose, relishing her scent, before throwing it on the floor.

"Goddamnit, Adam!" Paris exclaimed, thrashing beneath his hand. "Let me go!"

"Shut up!" Adam ordered, increasing the pressure on her back while undoing his jeans with his free hand.

"Adam, I swear…"

But before Paris could finish her threat, Adam thrust his hips, ramming his entire length into her prone, compliant body. Paris shrieked, gripping the table as her muscles tightened around him, the shock and the pain catching her off guard. Without even seeing him, she could tell he was huge, her body stretching to accommodate every inch. Adam gasped, trying to catch his breath as the blood hammered in his brain. He hadn't expected her to be so tight. It took all he had to keep from coming at that very second.

Not waiting for Paris to adjust to his size or such an unexpected and harsh invasion, Adam began to thrust in and out of her, keeping his hand firmly on her back. Paris continued to struggle, shouting an occasional obscenity and bucking her hips, seemingly in protest. Of course, unbeknownst to her, every time Paris bucked her hips, thinking she was fighting it, all she was doing was slamming herself harder against Adam, meeting his every thrust, exciting him beyond limits. It didn't take long for the excitement to become mutual as each of Adam's thrusts seemed to go deeper, his cock hitting a spot that almost drove her insane with lust. Paris shifted her weight to the tips of her toes so that she had more control and was able to get into sync with Adam as he continued to pump into her. Twisting his hand in her hair, Adam pulled Paris upward until her palms were flat on the table while his other hand reached around to massage her sensitive breasts. Paris moaned, her back now arched at an angle that gave Adam even deeper access…or at least, that's how it felt. Adam released her hair and used both of his hands to cup her breasts, kneading her flesh; his lips leaving hot trails on her back and neck. Paris threw her head back, thrashing passionately, pushing her hips against him, hoping his cock would go just a little deeper. Instinctively, Adam slowed his rhythm slightly as he teased her nipples, torturing her with pleasure. He could afford to ease up…he'd have her screaming in no time.

"Oh, God, Adam…please…don't stop!" Paris cried, grinding against him, trying to get him to resume his powerful thrusts.

"Like it, don't you?" Adam said, leaning over to whisper in her ear. "Tell me you like it."

"I like it," Paris managed to gasp without hesitation.

"Do you want me to stop? Leave your body without release?"

"God, no…Adam, please!"

"Do you want me to make you come?"

"Yes! God, yes!"

"I thought so," Adam smirked.

He released her breasts and grasped her hips, pulling practically all the way out before slamming relentlessly inside of her once again. Paris screamed as he continued to repeatedly pull back, only to ram into her again, his thrusts hitting their mark every time. Paris was bucking wildly, screaming his name as he felt her walls begin to clench around him. Adam closed his eyes, knowing that he was close to the edge, ready to explode inside of this woman with everything he had. Unfortunately, he hadn't thought about protection, but it was the least of his worries at the moment. He knew that Tammy had more than likely put Paris on birth control as she did with all the new female trainees. He also knew that they were both clean, since Paris had only been with Paul. He was so deep in thought that he almost lost track of the task at hand, namely fucking Paris' brains out. Luckily for him, her voice brought him back to reality.

"Harder!" Paris screamed. "Oh, God…Adam…harder!"

Adam took a deep breath and let got of Paris' hips, trailing his hands up to her shoulders, where he sunk his fingers in and pulled her roughly towards him, so that her ass was slamming into him full force. Paris gripped the edge of the table, colorful stars exploding behind her eyes, the constant ringing from the blood pounding in her ears unrelenting. With one final mind-blowing thrust, Paris tumbled over the edge, screaming Adam's name, her body trembling and spent.

Adam gripped her shoulders tightly, hoping he wasn't leaving marks. He gasped as she tightened, her muscles contracting around his cock, practically pulling his release from him. He felt dizzy, the pressure in his groin and the hammering in his temples almost unbearable. He thrust into her one last time as her orgasm hit, and clenching his teeth, he submitted, shuddering violently, pouring his release into her waiting body. Grunting quietly, he collapsed against her back, his cheek resting on her slick, heated skin.

Paris blinked, feeling the cold marble against her face and chest. Her breathing was returning to normal, but why were her ears still ringing? Suddenly, she realized that it wasn't her ears, it was the phone. Adam stirred against her as she lifted her head and stared at the cordless phone lying on the end table. Then, the answering machine picked up.

"Hey, this is Adam…and Paris…and Jeff…and soon to be, The Miz," each of their voices sing-songed, Adam standing in for the yet-to-arrive Mike Mizanin. "We can't take your call right now. Please leave a message and we'll call you back…bye."

Beep.

There was a long pause…silence. Just as the machine was about to hang up, a familiar voice echoed across the room.

"Umm, Paris…it's Randy. I guess you're not home…or you just don't want to talk to me. I just wanted to see how you were doing, if everything was going OK in OVW. I just…umm, wanted to say I'm sorry, OK? I'm sorry about the bet, about Paul, about involving Dave and Amy…everything. I love you, Paris…I love you so much. Take care, OK? And call me…if you feel like it. Bye."

Beep.

Adam felt her body tremble and he heard a sob escape her lips. What the fuck was this, he thought. So this was the thanks he got for just giving her the most incredible fuck of her life…crying over…Orton, who apparently 'loved her so much.' Unbelievable, Adam thought. Fucking unbelievable.

Paris jumped as she felt Adam pull out of her. Wiping her tears, she quickly righted herself and pulled up her pants. She turned to look at Adam as he zipped his jeans, his face mocking.

"That was…" she began.

"A complete waste of time," Adam retorted. "Don't you have a phone call to return?"

Paris blinked, gaping at him with disbelief. "You think I'm gonna call him back?"

"You want to, don't you?"

Paris didn't answer.

"Just as I thought," Adam replied, sneering. "It's so obvious seeing how weepy you got just at the sound of his voice. Or was that just my phenomenal sexual prowess that brought you to tears?"

Paris snorted defensively, grabbing Adam's shirt off the floor to instinctively cover herself. "Why are you being like this?"

Adam seized her roughly around the waist. "Because I told you, I won't walk in RKO's footsteps," he growled through clenched teeth.

With that he kissed her possessively, his body emanating dominance, before grabbing his shirt and yanking it away from her bare chest. Rather than covering up, Paris put her hands on her hips, sticking her chest out impudently, and glared at his retreating figure. Adam stopped in his doorway and threw a leering glance over his shoulder.

"Goodnight, Paris," he taunted. "Thanks for the…exercise. Paul was right…you are an amazing piece of ass. He smirked before slamming the door with authority.

Paris was so angry and humiliated, all she wanted to do was cry, but she'd be goddamned if she let him see that. The only thing that kept echoing in her ears was Randy's soft, remorseful voice on the answering machine. And what had she been doing when he called? Getting fucked doggie-style on her living room coffee table by a man who apparently didn't give a shit about her one way or another. Grabbing her top and her purse, Paris stomped angrily up the stairs, wanting nothing more than to climb into a hot shower and forget that this night…or this day…or even this week had ever happened.

Half an hour later, Paris pulled her shower curtain back and vigorously dried her pink skin, all traces of Adam having disappeared, except for a few love bites on her neck and breasts. Walking into her closet, Paris grabbed a robe and began coating herself with vanilla lotion. Suddenly, a noise out in her bedroom distracted her. Paris pulled her satin robe tightly around her, regretting that it didn't have a belt. She stepped into her room, only to find all the lights off and several candles, including her three big ones, lit. The entire room was cast in a sultry candlelit glow and the piece de resistance was Adam, naked, in her bed.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Get out of my bed!" Paris shouted, outraged at his audacity.

Adam chuckled. "Take it easy, Princess. Did you think we were done down there?"

She glared at him, her eyes flashing dangerously in the candlelight.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the Canadian taunted. "You did think we were done." He laughed. "That was just an appetizer. Now, it's time for the main course…and then, maybe dessert." He slid his hand into her robe, trailing his fingers between her silky thighs.

Paris felt he knees go weak at his touch, but she was determined to resist him. She wasn't about to let him get away with treating her how he had and then, just waltzing into her bedroom like everything was hunky dory. Mustering all of her strength, she pulled away from his probing hand, closing her robe to any further invasions.

"Adam, I want you to leave," she stated calmly, her voice soft and icy.

"Come on, Paris…I have to have something worthwhile to brag to Paul Levesque about," Adam replied, grinning wickedly, challenging.

"Get out!" she screamed, pointing at the stairs, realizing that there wasn't really a lot she could do to keep him out of her loft being that there was no door. "Get out of my room now!"

Stepping boldly forward, she reached over and grabbed Adam's arm, attempting to pull him out of her bed. As if she could overpower him, she thought ruefully. Immediately after she did it, she realized what a big mistake she had made as it allowed her to get close enough to him so that he could seize her arm and throw her on the bed, where he climbed on top of her, straddling her hips, pinning her beneath his weight.

Paris' hand flashed out to slap his smug face, but Adam caught both of her wrists, securing them above her head as he laughed arrogantly.

"Get off me!" Paris cried, struggling madly.

"Knock it off!" he growled, shaking her slightly.

Paris calmed down a bit, but inside she was still seething, her eyes snapping purple sparks. Even Paul had never been this conceited…this egotistical…this irresistible? One thing was for sure, Paul had never manhandled her quite like this. Adam was clearly exerting his dominance and Paris wasn't sure if she didn't like it a little.

"If I let go of your arms, do you promise to be a nice kitty and put your claws away?" the blond wrestler asked mockingly, jolting her out of her thoughts.

She nodded, still too stunned to speak as Adam released her wrists. He let his hands glide down her body, spreading her robe open, displaying every inch of her naked body in all its perfection.

"Nice, very hot," Adam commented, his eyes sweeping over her lustfully.

He reached forward and began playing with her breasts, his fingers tracing feathery circles around her nipples. He smiled with satisfaction as he watched them harden into stiff, little peaks. Paris felt a flood of warmth between her legs as his fingers massaged her sensitive, heated flesh.

"I could play with your tits for hours," Adam remarked. "You definitely got your money's worth."

Paris smirked wryly. "Gee, thanks. Next time I'm in Vegas, I'll drop in on my plastic surgeon and get you a pair, so you can…play with yourself."

Adam chuckled as he lowered himself so that he was now lying on top of her, her parted thighs resting on either side of his hips. "Oh, funny. Being a smart ass, are you?" His silvery eyes locked with hers.

Paris swallowed hard. "A smart-assed comment deserves a smart-assed answer," she retorted, her voice not quite as sharp as she wanted it to be. She seemed to lose her nerve with his eyes boring into her like lasers.

"Your voice softened…does that mean you're not mad at me anymore?"

"I'm furious with you…" Paris spat.

"But you're still gonna let me fuck you…again, because you can't resist me. I've barely done anything to you and I can already feel how wet you are."

He trailed his hand down, probing between her legs, thrusting two fingers inside of her. Paris gasped, arching her hips against his hand before realizing what she was doing. He was playing her like a finely-tuned instrument, deftly plucking just the right strings, and she was letting him.

"You see, Paris…any girl can take it soft and gentle. The girl for me has to be able to take it hard. I had to find out if you could take it. It was a test."

"And did I pass?" Paris replied sarcastically.

Adam smirked. "With flying colors. In fact, you've just graduated to teacher's pet."

"So what do I get for that?" Paris inquired, examining her fingernails in a bored manner, clearly indicating what she thought of this dubious 'honor' he had just bestowed upon her.

Adam grinned, very Edge-like. "Why don't you just lay back and let me take care of that?" he said as he propped himself up and slid down her body, trailing his lips across her breasts and down her flat stomach.

Paris rolled her eyes, sighing airily with feigned boredom. She was still angry at his rough treatment of her, her stubborn nature not willing to give him an inch. She was about to surprise the hell out of him by physically kicking him out of her bed when something startled her. She felt Adam gently but insistently parting her legs, his long, blond hair tickling her thighs. She jumped as his tongue touched her intimately, and he dug his fingers into her soft flesh, pulling her towards him as he began to pleasure her relentlessly.

"Oh God!" Paris screamed as she arched her back and gripped the sheets, her passion already at a fever pitch.

Adam looked up at her from between her legs and smirked.

She was in for a long night.

Several hours later…

"Oh…Adam!" Paris screamed as she arched her back, riding him feverishly.

"Jesus, Paris…" Adam breathed, thrusting his hips to meet her as she came down. He slid his hands along her waist to grasp her breasts as she thrashed breathlessly on top of him.

"Oh…God!...Oh, Adam!"

Adam closed his eyes, feeling her body submitting to him for what seemed like the millionth time that night. He was utterly exhausted, his body completely drained, but for some reason, he couldn't stop, he couldn't get enough of her. Obviously, Paris was an extremely passionate woman and now that she had discovered the pleasures of sex, she was practically insatiable. Adam smiled inwardly, knowing that although Paul had opened the door for her, he was the one lying beneath her, helping her perfect her skills, so to speak. Adam shook his head…the last thing he wanted to be thinking about at that moment was Paris and Paul. His thoughts went back to the familiar sensation of her body becoming tighter, the pressure in his own body building up to the point that he couldn't take much more.

Sliding his hands down, he gripped her firm thighs, his fingers digging into her soft skin. He thrust one last time as Paris slammed down on him and then, leaned back as far as she could. Paris' body began to tremble and quiver, tiny ripples of passion coursing through her. Clenching his teeth, Adam came with such intensity he almost passed out as Paris arched and shuddered violently, submitting to her own release before collapsing on Adam's chest, gasping for breath.

Adam wrapped his arms around her, stroking her back, his fingers lightly tickling her damp skin. Glancing at the window, he noticed that the darkness had given way to the soft green glow of early morning. He couldn't believe they'd been at it all night! He smiled, running his fingers through her fragrant hair as her breathing began to return to normal.

Paris rolled off of Adam and curled up against his chest as he continued to stroke her back and shoulders. Lifting her chin, he kissed her gently, his tongue lightly sweeping over her lower lip. Paris trailed her fingers across his muscled chest and down his chiseled abs.

"It's morning, you know," Adam commented quietly.

"Mmm hmm," Paris murmured.

"And I have a show tonight."

"Mmm."

"So do you."

Paris nodded and kissed his neck, curling closer to him.

"I should go to sleep," Adam said, beginning to rise.

"Stay," she suggested.

"Here?"

"I promise I'll let you go to sleep."

"What if Jeff comes home and discovers where I'm at?"

"Whatever," Paris laughed. "I'm sure he's been getting his world rocked all night, so he has no room to talk. And screwing the boss, no less!"

Adam chuckled. "Is that what I've been doing? Rocking your world?"

Paris smiled up at him. "I was thinking more that I rocked your world."

"Oh, is that so?" Adam teased.

Paris didn't respond, but giggled softly. Adam sat up and pushed her gently onto her back, his eyes lingering on her body possessively. Paris smiled invitingly, parting her thighs, but this time, it was Adam who resisted.

"Baby, I need to sleep. You're gonna put me in the hospital. I'm not a young man anymore, you know."

"What? Come on…how old are you?"

"Almost thirty. How old are you?"

"Twenty."

Adam sighed. He was more than a little surprised that she was so young. He honestly hadn't known. Another detail Paul Levesque had conveniently forgot to mention. "You're only twenty? How'd you get in the bar?"

"Fake ID."

"I definitely need to go back to my own room."

"No, stay. I promise I'll behave."

Adam relented and laid his head against her chest, pausing just long enough to kiss each of her nipples. He smirked arrogantly as he watched the tiny peaks stiffen at his touch and Paris squirmed uncomfortably.

"That was a dirty trick," she whispered.

"Ssh…go to sleep."

Paris was silent for several moments, running her fingers through the Canadian's long blond hair. As she felt his breathing even out, she decided to ask him one more question before letting him go to sleep.

"Adam?"

"Hmm?"

"What does this mean? What does this make us?"

"What do you mean?" Adam murmured.

"Are we boyfriend and girlfriend…what?"

"I don't know if it's wise to put labels on it this soon, Paris. Besides, you're in love with Orton… I know that."

Paris sighed. "I told you…it doesn't matter. I can't be with him so…"

"So you'll settle for me?" Adam replied, finishing her sentence. His tone sounded slightly hurt.

"It's not settling…it's moving on."

"Well, I'm sorry to break this to you, Paris, but I'm not a very good boyfriend. In fact, I'm sure Alannah would tell you I'm an even lousier husband."

"I really don't care what Alannah would tell me. From what Tammy says, she sounds like a bitch."

Adam glanced down at her, his look sharp.

"Sorry," Paris apologized. "I didn't mean…"

Adam's gaze softened. "It's OK. She is a bitch. Nevertheless, you probably deserve better than me. I can't say that Randy Orton would necessarily be better, but I know I'm not."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure Randy probably thinks I'm a pretty poor excuse for a girlfriend."

"Probably," Adam agreed.

"What's that mean?" Paris asked, suddenly defensive.

Adam snorted. "Well, you did fuck Paul…"

"Oh, thanks for reminding me," Paris retorted sarcastically. "I almost forgot for a second. And I think there's some guy in China who hasn't heard about it…you wanna call him and tell him?"

"Hey, you're the one who put out for him…what're you getting pissed at me for?"

Paris glared at him. "You know, maybe you should go back to your own room."

She tried to roll away from him, but Adam grabbed her and quick as lightening, he climbed on top of her, pinning her beneath his muscular frame.

"You weren't just trying to be dominant, were you?" Adam mocked. "You weren't just ordering me around, were you? Because you know how I feel about that."

"Get out!" Paris spat, trying to twist away from him.

However, her efforts were futile as he was too strong for her.

"Out?" he laughed. "I'd rather be…in."

"In what?" Paris demanded, her teeth clenched.

Adam smirked wickedly. "In you," he replied as he parted her thighs and thrust harshly inside of her.

Paris bit her lip as she met his thrust, the pain mixing with pleasure. She was silent as Adam buried his face in her neck, gently nibbling her skin as he pumped in and out of her.

"Adam?" Paris asked, her voice cool and casual, totally belying the fact that they were having sex.

"Yeah?" he breathed.

"I'll repeat my question…what are we?"

"What do you wanna be?"

"Friends?" she suggested noncommittally. "Friends…with benefits."

Adam slowed his rhythm to a near standstill, pausing to gaze into her violet eyes. "Friends with benefits, huh? I think I like that." He paused again. "As long as no one else gets any…benefits."

"I thought you wanted to sleep," Paris stated changing the subject as she wiggled her hips teasingly.

Adam kissed her hungrily. "It's still early," he replied.

"What about your show?"

"I never worry about my performance."

"Well, your performance right now is sorely lacking," Paris taunted.

"Is it?" Adam chuckled as he rose to kneel between her thighs. Pushing her legs up, he hooked her ankles over his shoulders and poised himself to slam inside of her once again.

He smiled down at her, his gray eyes intense, his smile the wickedest Edge smile she had ever seen. "I'm feeling a little hurt, Paris," he mocked. "I think I need to cash in on some benefits."

"I think you owe me an apology."

Adam laughed. "And I think you're in for a rough morning, Princess."

She had indeed been Edge-ucated.

**Hello, again. Please read and review. I hope it was worth the wait…it always takes me a long time to write smut. I think things just got very interesting in OVW. I wonder what's gonna happen next. Love you guys. Later.**

**----Evilution**


	7. Defining Moments

Chapter 7 – Defining Moments

By Evilution

**Disclaimer:** You know the routine…if you recognize it, I don't own it. Sorry it's been so long since I updated…hope you guys haven't forgotten me. I've just been really busy and fighting a case of writer's block, but hopefully, this chapter will help me get back in the saddle again. Enjoy!

Friday, October 17, 2003

Paris glanced at her watch as she climbed into the Durango. It was a little after one PM and she was completely exhausted, grateful that Tammy had let her off early for the day. As she drove home, she reflected on the last couple weeks, realizing that she had never worked so hard in her entire life. Her days were spent divided between studying tapes and reading, diva training with Tammy, and ring training with the rest of her class. Once she had mastered some of the more basic bumps, her progress seemed to take off from there, her background in karate and gymnastics being more beneficial than she thought. Big and Fit marveled at how quickly she learned while Jim and Danny toyed with moving her debut up a couple weeks. However, Tammy convinced them to stick with early December for Paris' wrestling debut so as not to overwhelm the young diva.

By far, Paris' most enjoyable lessons were her diva training sessions with Tammy. Tammy always made sure that they were either in an actual ring or in front of a real camera. Tammy taught her how to walk like a diva, talk like a diva, and look like a diva. Paris learned how to play to the crowd, how to hang on her wrestler's every word, and how to make love to the camera. Tammy's assessment had been correct…Paris took to being a diva like a duck to water. Tammy had no doubt that Paris would be more than ready to walk to the ring at Jeff's side for her November 5 debut.

Every morning, Paris would go into Trax earlier than anyone else. The only day she didn't do this was Sunday as the OVW roster was usually out of town for house shows. She would spend about an hour watching her own performance from the day before and then, critiquing it. Then, she'd spend a couple of hours reading and studying tapes of RAW, SmackDown, and various pay-per-views. By then, most everyone had arrived and she'd spend the rest of the morning sparring in the ring with her classmates. Usually once or twice a week, Fit would have her get in the ring with some of the OVW women. So far, she'd only sparred with Alexis, Jillian, Trudi, and Shannon. She had yet to get in the ring with Nicole or any of her friends. This went on until late afternoon when Paris usually took a break for lunch, showered, and reported to Tammy for diva training. Sometimes she'd be at Trax until six or seven at night, unless it was Wednesday and they had a TV taping or it was Saturday and they had a house show. Eventually, she would go home and either go out with Adam or they'd stay in and he'd help her study.

Adam. Now, there was one aspect of her life that she couldn't explain. She had her daily routine and schedule planned down to the minute, a perfect model of almost obsessive control, but Adam was the one thing she couldn't control. He was the one example of unpredictability in her life. He was a complete mystery to her and she couldn't get enough of him. When he came up behind her and wound his arms around her waist, she never knew if he was going to gently kiss her neck and touch her body or if he would bend her over and have his way with her. One minute, he was attentive and supportive, the next he was cold and detached. It got to be maddening at times and Paris found that the only way she could deal with it was to become detached herself. She and Adam passed in and out of each other's lives as roommates, lovers…just what they were—friends with benefits.

Randy continued to haunt her thoughts and dreams. He had called a few more times, but Paris still couldn't bring herself to talk to him. The phone had been strangely quiet over the last couple days, ever since Dave had appeared at the OVW TV taping on Wednesday. Paris could only conclude that The Animal must have told Randy about her and Adam. Dave had come to see her before the taping and they had actually ridden to the New Davis Arena together. Adam was off somewhere with Jeff, Paris didn't know where. Jeff had made a trip to Cameron last week to get his Corvette as he was growing weary of sharing a vehicle and checking everyone's schedule to make sure it was OK for him to use the Durango. The only person he let drive his Corvette was Adam, so Paris usually had the Durango all to herself.

Dave had apologized once again and gave her a rundown of what he, Amy, Randy, and Paul had been doing. He brought her brief greetings from Chris, Trish, and Amanda…all of them concerned and curious as to how she was doing. All in all, it was a very casual visit with the Animal of Evolution…that is, until right before the show. Adam had been watching Paris from a distance and he was getting more that a little irritated and jealous at the attention she was giving Dave Batista. He decided to make his presence felt and give Triple H's lapdog a story to take back home. As Paris stopped at a red light, she closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose, vividly recalling the uncomfortable scene.

"Hey, baby," Adam said as he casually strolled up and clamped a hand on her ass. "You haven't even said hi to me yet…what gives?"

Before Paris could answer, he leaned over and locked lips with her, seemingly oblivious to Dave and John Hennigan standing there discussing strategy for their match with the Disciples of Synn later. John stopped in mid-sentence and gaped at the lip-locked couple while Dave cocked an eyebrow and ran his hand through his hair, glancing around awkwardly.

When Adam finally released her lips, he smirked somewhat arrogantly at Dave and John, pretending like he hadn't noticed they were there.

"Oh, hey, guys…didn't even see you there," the blond Canadian claimed. "Dave Batista…good to see you again, man."

Adam put his hand out and grinned, almost challenging Dave to shake it, all the while keeping his arm around Paris' waist.

"You, too, man," Dave replied, taking the high road like the classy guy he was and shaking Adam's hand. "How's the neck?"

"It's good. You're back on TV pretty soon, right?"

"This Monday."

"So how's Paul doing?" Adam asked, changing the subject.

Dave shrugged. "OK, I guess. You know how he gets when he doesn't have the belt."

Adam and Paris both nodded, knowing all too well about Paul's black moods when he didn't have what he thought was rightfully his around his waist.

"Well, hey…I hate to be rude," Adam stated. "But I need to steal Paris away for a second. You should go out with us later."

"Thanks, but I'm leaving right after the show. I gotta fly all the way to New Hampshire and I'd rather get there tonight than tomorrow."

"Oh, that's too bad," Adam replied insincerely. In reality, he was glad Dave was leaving. Just another reminder for Paris of Randy Orton that he didn't need hanging around.

Paris had bid Dave goodbye and left with Adam, who soon ditched her to go hang out with Jeff. Apparently, he hadn't needed to talk to her that badly…he just wanted to get her away from Dave. However, after the show, Paris wasn't about to let The Animal go back to the WWE without setting the record straight. As they were leaving the New Davis Arena, she volunteered to give Dave a ride to the airport. This didn't set well with Adam, but there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it…not without creating a scene.

"Listen, Dave," Paris began once they were on the freeway. "Adam and I…we're not…"

"It's really none of my business," The Animal interrupted, shifting nervously. Fuck, he hated this guy/girl crap.

"But I wanna explain because I don't want Randy to think that…I mean…Adam and I aren't a couple, OK?"

"No?" Dave replied, turning to glance at her incredulously.

"No, we're just…"

"Fuck buddies?"

Paris blushed to the roots of her hair. She was glad it was dark so the Monster of Evolution couldn't see how embarrassed she was.

"Classy way of putting it," she retorted flippantly.

"Well, that's what it is, isn't it?" Dave shot back, equally sarcastic.

Paris sighed. As much as she tried to sugar-coat it, that was exactly what she and Adam were. After all, what the hell was 'friends with benefits' anyway if not 'fuck buddies'?

"You know, Dave, you're right, OK? So what's wrong with that?"

Dave snorted and shrugged his massive shoulders. "There's nothing wrong with it, Paris. We all have needs that…we have to fulfill. It's just real hard for people on the outside like me and Amy, who hear you say you love Randy and then…" He sighed, not finishing his sentence. "I'm not judging you, but if you love RKO…"

"I do love Randy!" Paris insisted vehemently.

"Then, why Adam?" Dave demanded. "Why him of all people? I mean, there's plenty of good-looking, horny, young guys in OVW…like that kid Hennigan I teamed with tonight. He'd probably treat you better than Copeland. Jesus, Paris…what is it with you? First, Paul, and now, Adam. Do you have built-in asshole radar or something?"

"Oh, that's funny, Dave. Real funny. You and I both know that Randy and I…we…just can't be."

"And why not?" Dave practically exploded. "He's sorry, you're sorry! He forgives you, you forgive him! He loves you, you love him! What the fuck is the problem?"

Paris slammed on the brakes and pulled the Durango over to the side of the freeway. She leaned back in her seat, hoping Dave couldn't see her tears.

"Maybe I don't forgive myself," she said quietly, a tiny sob escaping her lips.

Dave watched intently as one little sob turned into several heart-wrenching sobs and Paris buried her face in her hands. He hated seeing women cry…it almost broke his heart.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath before unlocking both his and Paris' seat belts and taking her into his huge arms. Paris cried piteously against his muscled chest as Dave gently stroked her hair and shoulders. When she had finished, he handed her a tissue that he had retrieved from the glove box.

"God, I'm sorry," Paris declared as she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. "Really…I'm so embarrassed…"

Dave put a hand up. "It's OK."

"Well, I suppose I should get you to the airport," the diva stated, starting the car and pulling back into traffic.

Dave nodded, not really knowing what to say. Paris was his friend and she had confided in him. Obviously, she still loved Randy, but for some odd reason, she was with Adam. Dave understood physical needs all too well, but he really hoped that between Paul and Adam that Paris didn't get a reputation for sleeping around. The entire WWE locker room was talking about her and Paul, and the DC native didn't doubt for a second that it was the same situation with her and Adam in the OVW locker room.

When they got to the airport, Paris waited while Dave checked his luggage and then, walked him to his boarding gate.

"Your show isn't until Friday," she commented. "How come you're flying to New Hampshire tonight?"

"Amy's meeting me. Paul recommended this bed and breakfast place in his home town…it's private and romantic, I guess."

Clearly, he was embarrassed by the notion of someone knowing that he was romantic.

Paris smiled. "That's sweet. Have a good time and say hi to Amy for me, OK?"

"I will," Dave agreed as he took Paris into his arms for a friendly hug. "I'll see you next week?"

"Oh, yeah, you have one more show here, don't you?"

He nodded and glanced around a little awkwardly. "Well…"

"Dave…wait. You're not mad at me, are you?"

"Of course not. Just…take care of yourself, OK? Protect yourself…if you know what I mean."

"I will," Paris told him, ignoring the fact that she was blushing and she wasn't too comfortable herself.

"Take care," Dave said, absently kissing her cheek before disappearing down the hallway to board his flight.

Paris shook her head as she pulled up in front of the house. She was confused. She knew that Dave had probably told Randy and maybe even Paul about her and Adam. She assumed that was why her phone had been quiet. Yet on the other hand, she kind of wondered if that sort of news wouldn't have prompted Randy to call more, and she was more that a little surprised that she hadn't heard from Paul.

After taking a shower, Paris sat down on her bedroom floor and stared at her cell phone, contemplating whether she should call The Legend Killer or not. Just as she was about to speed dial his cell number, she heard the front door open. Adam jogged up the stairs, greeted her with a blinding grin, and then, joined her on the floor, where he began to kiss her passionately, his hands pulling her towel off and erotically roaming her body. Within minutes, he had shed his clothing and lowered himself on top of Paris. She gasped as he thrust into her prone body, his lips hungrily kissing her neck.

"Adam?" Paris said, interrupting his rhythm.

"Hmm?" Adam murmured, trying to concentrate.

"How do you feel about me?"

"What?" He lifted his face from her neck and stared down at her questioningly. Why did she always want to have deep conversations when he was trying to fuck her?

"How do you feel about me?" Paris repeated.

Adam shrugged. "I like having sex with you," he stated. "I'd do just about anything you'd ask of me. I mean, we're friends, but we're more…you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, but…"

"But what?"

"You get jealous," Paris added. "Even though I'm not your girlfriend, you get jealous…don't deny it."

Adam sighed. "This is about Dave Batista, isn't it?"

"Why did you feel the need to mark your territory right in front of him? Not to mention, John Hennigan, who's gonna go running back to Joey and Matt and all the guys in the locker room…"

"Look, Paris, I didn't know our relationship was a big secret," Adam replied irritated. "I didn't know that I wasn't allowed to give you a kiss if people might be looking."

"That's not it."

"Then what is it?"

Paris sighed. "It's just your attitude…"

"What about my attitude?"

"I don't know…it's like you were rubbing it in Dave's face…kind of like giving him something to go tell Randy about."

"Is that what you think?"

"That's how it feels, Adam."

Adam shook his head and snorted. "Yeah, well, I don't really give a shit what Dave Batista or Randy Orton thinks."

"Then why'd you do it?" Paris demanded.

"Because I felt like it! You know, Paris, I guess if I can't kiss my woman in public, I'll just ignore you from now on. Or maybe I could treat you like shit…like Randy and Paul did…is that what you want?"

"Wait a minute, wait a minute…your woman? Excuse me…I thought you said I wasn't your girlfriend?"

"There's a difference."

"Oh, really? What would that be, Adam? A girlfriend is someone you love and respect. 'Your woman' just means that you get to have sex with me…and whoever else you want, whenever you want, right? But because I'm 'your woman,' I can only be with you! Why don't you just say 'your whore' because that's what you really mean?"

Adam glared at her, his silvery eyes flashing. Clearly, he was pissed. "That's bullshit, Paris! I've been completely faithful to you…"

"And I've been faithful to you!"

"Physically, maybe, but not in your heart."

"You know I still love him, Adam…you knew from the beginning. I never lied to you about that. What do you want from me?"

Hearing her admit that she still loved Orton was more than Adam could take. The blood pounded in his temples and when he opened his eyes, all he could see was red. He grabbed Paris roughly by the throat, pinning her to the floor, staying inside of her the whole time. She shrieked, her hands clawing at his arm, but he was too strong. Leaning forward, he put his face right in front of hers and whispered menacingly.

"I want you to forget him!" the blond Canadian ordered. "He doesn't love you, he's not coming for you, especially after Paul's lackey weaves a tale of what he witnessed Wednesday night. And then, RKO's imagination gets the best of him. He has visions of you and me together, images of you screaming in ecstasy while I violate you in ways he never thought possible…do you really think he'll want you back after that?"

Tears sprang to Paris' eyes as she struggled beneath him, his words piercing her soul like a white-hot dagger. He loosened his grip on her throat, but didn't completely release her. It wasn't even the pain in her heart or the stark brutality of his words that made the blood freeze in her veins. It was the realization that he was right. As cold and harsh as his words were, he spoke the truth. Her relationship with him was just one more betrayal against Randy, one more sin The Legend Killer couldn't forgive. However, as lost as she felt, it wasn't despair that bubbled up inside of Paris at that moment. It was anger.

"Get off me and get the fuck out of my room!" Paris screamed as she bucked her hips and flailed her arms wildly. "If you ever touch me again, I swear to God…I'll involve Paul if I have to…"

Adam chuckled sardonically as he released her throat and pulled out of her.

"Paul?" he scoffed. "You think Paul's gonna help you? Fuck, he'd probably applaud me for putting your spoiled little ass in its place. In fact, who do you think I learned from? I didn't become this way by myself."

"You're lying! Paul's a lot of things, but…"

"But what? Trust me, sweetheart, the words 'noble' and 'hero' don't fit in the same sentence with Paul Levesque. Maybe I'll invite him down here for a visit and the three of us can party…you being the star attraction of the party. Just think, Paris…the things I do to you, only it would be double with Paul here. There aren't a lot of ways for you to take both of us, but I can think of a few. Let's say we practice right now…"

Before Paris could protest, Adam grabbed her ankles and flipped her onto her stomach. He grabbed a pillow that was nearby and shoved it under her hips. Paris tried to fight him, kicking and screaming, but he pinned her down, straddling her thighs, his hand firmly on the back of her neck.

Paris tensed as she felt his fingers tracing between her ass cheeks, only to thrust inside of her, teasing her torturously. Eventually, she calmed down and much to her shame and irritation, she was pushing herself against Adam's hand, moaning with pleasure as he worked his fingers, making her come and leaving her gasping for breath, her face against the plush carpet. Adam withdrew his hand and released Paris' neck, allowing her to prop herself up and glance over her shoulder at him. He smiled wickedly as he licked his fingers and leaned forward to kiss her. Paris devoured his lips, the taste of her own body mingling with his.

"Why do you do this, Adam?" Paris whispered, ashamed that no matter what he did, it always seemed to bring her pleasure.

"You're the one who said you were my whore," Adam mocked. "If you want me to treat you like a whore, Paris, I will. You seem to get off on that."

"No…"

"No?"

"What are you going to do?"

Adam chuckled. "Paul took your virginity here," he said as he rubbed the tip of his cock against her slick opening. "My guess is that you're still a virgin in one other place."

Before she could respond, he pushed his finger into the exact place he was talking about. Paris shrieked and arched her back as his finger wiggled around inside of her. Grabbing another pillow that was nearby, she bit hard on the soft fabric as Adam's finger continued to probe. Pausing momentarily, he pushed another finger into the tight opening. Giving it up the ass wasn't really his thing, but some girls liked it. It was a good way to test the waters. As he pushed harder, Paris writhed beneath him, biting the pillow and screaming quietly into it.

"Baby, relax," Adam urged. "It only hurts if you're tense." He began to sensually stroke her back and her ass cheeks as he continued to work his fingers.

Paris' screams died down to soft whimpers as she began to relax. She wasn't exactly sure if she liked this, but the sensation wasn't entirely unpleasant either. She knew that her body had reacted to the surprising invasion as she felt a warm wetness between her legs. Adam knew it, too, and smiled knowingly. He felt Paris go limp as he withdrew his fingers.

"You thought you wouldn't like it, but you still came," he whispered.

"I think it was more out of shock than pleasure," she replied quietly.

"Nevertheless, it's excellent lubrication," Adam stated as he reached over and grabbed his discarded pants, still keeping Paris pinned beneath him.

Paris heard the crackling of cellophane and she realized that he was putting on a condom. That was strange…he'd never bothered before. She wondered what the occasion was.

"Why are you using a condom?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder, but not really looking at him.

"Cleanliness," he replied simply as he continued to sensually rub her back.

Paris' brow furrowed in a puzzled look. "Cleanliness? What the hell…oh, God, Adam!" she shrieked, her words suddenly cut off by an invasion she didn't expect.

Paris had been too distracted by Adam using a condom that she wasn't really paying attention to where he was positioning himself to enter. When her body gave way and the tip of his manhood pushed slowly but insistently into the opening that his fingers had just left, Paris panicked. Fingers were one thing, but she didn't think he'd actually do her up the butt! Only prostitutes and promiscuous girls took it up the ass. So that was why he put on a condom! As Adam pushed harder, Paris tensed violently, her nails clawing into the carpet, her voice screaming against the pillow.

"Baby, relax," Adam repeated. "Just let yourself go limp and it'll feel great…I promise."

"Adam, please stop! It hurts, OK?"

"Baby, I've barely even gone in. Just chill out…"

"No!" Paris shouted. "I want you to stop! You've made your point, OK?"

Adam paused. "And what point would that be?"

"You want me to forget Randy," she whispered, tears prickling her eyes.

Adam sighed and withdrew from the tight opening. He felt Paris relax beneath him. Pulling off the condom, he flipped her onto her back and stretched his body over hers, entering her slowly and gently. Paris closed her eyes, relieved that he was at least screwing her in the right place this time. She felt his lips softly meet hers as his fingers brushed a tear off of her cheek.

"Baby, I'm sorry," he said as her eyelids fluttered open, her violet eyes meeting his silvery gray ones. "I just get so jealous when you talk about you and RKO…"

"I've told you…there is no me and RKO."

"So you're all mine then?" Adam asked her.

"Yes, Adam."

"Mine and only mine? To do with you as I please? To have my wicked way with you?"

"As long as it doesn't involve what you did a minute ago."

"Trust me, babe…I'm really not into that any more than you are."

"You promise?" she pouted.

"On one condition…"

"What's that?"

"Don't use Paul to threaten me, OK? I'm not any more afraid of him than I am of Orton. God, Paris, I wish I could make you see that those guys aren't your friends. I mean, haven't they hurt you enough?...except Dave, of course."

Paris shook her head, closing her eyes once again. "I know…I know you're right…"

"Then let's just not talk about them anymore, OK?"

Paris nodded in agreement as Adam smiled and captured her lips. She relaxed as he began to move inside of her. She was almost preoccupied enough to push away the gnawing little worm of doubt in her stomach. Almost. Was Adam telling the truth about Paul and Randy? Did he have his own agenda or was he just that insecure? Only time would tell.

Meanwhile…

A taxi stopped outside the house with the loft and a young man stepped out, shouldering his bag in the process. His blue eyes scanned the neighborhood quickly before he paid the driver and headed up the front walk. There was no doorbell and the door was open. Taking a deep breath, he knocked lightly on the screen door. No one answered.

"Hello?" he called through the mesh. "Anyone home?"

Still no answer.

With much trepidation, he opened the screen door and stepped inside the house.

"Hello? I'm coming in…no need to panic…I'm just the new roomie."

Still nothing. Maybe no one was home. He set his bag on the floor and began to wander around the living room, heading toward the stairs. Suddenly, a noise from the loft stopped him in his tracks.

"Oh…yes! Oh…Adam!" a woman's voice called in ecstasy.

He blushed, shifting uncomfortably. Obviously, there was someone home because there were people upstairs having sex. The last thing he wanted to do was walk in on a scene like that. The young man was enough of a wrestling fan to know that 'Adam' most likely referred to his roommate, Adam Copeland, who was better known as Edge. But God only knew who the woman was and the newbie didn't want to risk offending or embarrassing someone as important as Edge.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs, he cleared his throat. "Hello?" he called, a little more loudly.

"Did you hear something?" Paris asked, lifting her head off of Adam's chest. He had just given her the most amazing orgasm and they were both lying entangled on the floor, trying to catch their breath.

Adam blinked, trying to ignore the blood that was still hammering in his ears. "Like what?" he questioned.

"Like a voice."

Suddenly, the familiar floor board at the bottom of the stairs creaked. "Hello? Anyone home?" a male voice shouted.

"Shit, someone's downstairs," Paris whispered, scrambling for some clothes. "I bet it's Mike."

She dashed into the bathroom and returned wearing track pants and a tank top as Adam sat up and casually pulled on his wind pants. He followed Paris down the stairs, a little more reserved than she was. She actually seemed excited at the thought of meeting this Mizanin guy.

"Mike Mizanin!" Paris screamed as she reached the bottom of the stairs, not bothering with the last two steps, but just jumping off of them into Mike's surprised arms.

"Paris…Paris Ocean!" Mike replied, swinging her around and hugging her tightly. He hadn't seen her in a long time, not since she'd hosted a lavish party for former Real Worlders at the Mirage.

Of course, she'd been a few years younger, but she was just as beautiful. Mike knew that he was going to be living with a future WWE diva, but he had no idea it was Paris. In fact, he had no clue that she was even interested in wrestling. His brow furrowed slightly. Not only was Paris interested in wrestling, but apparently, she had been the woman upstairs screwing Edge. And it was most definitely Edge, as Mike had suspected, because he glanced up to see the blond wrestler stroll casually down the stairs.

"God, Paris, I haven't seen you in ages," The Miz stated, releasing her. "You never told me you were into wrestling."

Paris laughed. "I'm not…I mean, I wasn't…it's a long story."

Adam cleared his throat, causing the two young people to look up at him. Paris had neglected to mention that she already knew Mike Mizanin. Adam wondered what other secrets she was keeping.

"Do you two know each other?" he asked pleasantly.

Paris giggled again, this time a little nervously. "God, Adam…I'm sorry…I met Mike a few years ago in Vegas when he did an appearance for The Real World. I was hosting a party in place of my dad and he was there with his girlfriend and some other Real Worlders," she explained.

She hoped that by mentioning that Mike had a girlfriend would quell any jealousy on Adam's part. She had already picked up on the suspicious look on his face.

"Geez, how rude of me…" Paris went on. "Mike Mizanin, this is Adam Copeland, better known as Edge. Adam, this is The Miz, Mike Mizanin." Hopefully, some introductions would ease the tension she could feel mounting in the room.

Adam grinned brilliantly as he descended the remainder of the stairs and put his hand out to Mike. "Been looking forward to meeting you," he greeted, shaking the young man's hand.

Mike grinned back. "Wow, this is a real honor…I mean, I'm a huge fan. I have every single TLC match on video. When I heard that I'd be living with you and Jeff Hardy…well, I couldn't believe it."

"Paris never mentioned that she knew you," Adam interjected, sliding his arm around Paris' waist. "Usually she tells me everything."

Mike noticed Paris shift uncomfortably and he picked up on the hint to keep his mouth shut. As far as he knew, Paris and Jeff had only been here a couple of weeks. A little soon for this guy, no matter how famous he was, to be acting so possessive. Mike got the distinct impression that whatever relationship existed between Paris and the toothy Canadian…well, it didn't appear to be all wine and roses. More like sex and ownership.

"We only met briefly," The Miz replied casually.

"Yeah, and I've been so busy, I didn't even think to mention it," Paris added. She gave Adam's waist a squeeze and arched an eyebrow, indicating that she'd explain later.

Adam caught on and let it go, secretly telling himself that her explanation better be a good one.

"Why don't we show you to your room?" the Canadian suggested, leading Mike down the hall to the tiny room while Paris followed quietly behind. "It's kind of small, but…"

"This is great," Mike enthused as he entered the room and threw his bags on the floor. It definitely wasn't a room from a Real World house, but he'd seen worse. Besides, he was the rookie. Naturally, he'd get the smallest room. "Besides, I only plan on sleeping here."

"Well, Jeff tried it, but he gets claustrophobic," Adam explained, still eying Paris.

Jeff must have sensed that they were talking about him because at that moment, the colorful wrestler jogged through the front door, trying to keep up with his prairie dog, Witty, who was leaping forward, trying to escape his tiny harness and leash.

"Speak of the devil," Adam remarked.

"Oh my God! You're Jeff Hardy!" Mike exclaimed as he rushed forward to shake the King of Xtreme's hand. "I swear I'm your biggest fan…"

"And you are?" Jeff prompted.

"Mike Mizanin…your new roommate."

"Oh, hey, man…nice to meet you," Jeff replied, shaking his hand. "Did you just get here?"

"Yeah, my plane was late. Adam and Paris were showing me my room and I hate to be rude, but I really need to get to Trax. I'm supposed to meet someone named Tammy Petersen in like fifteen minutes…do you have the number for a cab?"

"Tammy's my girlfriend," Jeff told him. "I'm supposed to pick her up…her car's in the shop. I can drop you off as long as you can get a ride back."

"I'm sure I can hitch a ride a home with one of my classmates. Would you mind?"

"Not at all…lemme change real quick."

Mike nodded as Jeff ducked into his room and emerged a few minutes later, minus Witty, but wearing a clean shirt and a Panthers baseball cap. Mike bid Paris and Adam goodbye and followed Jeff to the door. Before leaving, Jeff stopped and turned to Paris.

"Oh, Paris…" he said.

"Yeah?"

"I know Tammy let you off early today…"

"So?"

"Well, when I came home, Liger didn't have any water."

Paris rolled her eyes. Liger was Jeff's dog. When Jeff had gone back to Cameron last week to get his car, he'd returned with Witty and Liger. Paris was allergic to animals and much to Jeff's chagrin, she had insisted that Liger remain outside. After all, they were in the South and it wasn't cold. Witty was small and mostly stayed in either Jeff's room or the kitchen, so he didn't bother her as much. They had agreed that whoever came home first would fill Liger's dish. Between her brooding about Randy and her issues with Adam, Paris had simply forgotten.

"Sorry, Jeff…I forgot," Paris apologized.

"Paris, you can't just forget! Liger's a living creature…he needs water and food. It's hot out and he could get dehydrated. He can't sweat like we do!" Jeff put his hands on his hips dramatically as if he were lecturing a wayward child.

"I said I'm sorry, OK?"

"This is like the second time this week you 'just forgot.'"

Paris sighed. "Jeff, you only just brought Liger down here last week."

"Yeah, and you've neglected him twice already."

Mike raised his eyebrows as Jeff raised his voice. The Miz wondered what exactly he had walked into.

"Well, maybe he's not my responsibility," Paris shot back.

"And what exactly is your responsibility around here, Paris? You don't do a goddamn thing around this house."

"Look, man, chill out," Adam interjected. "You don't have to jump all over her, for Christ's sake!"

"Stay out of it, Adam!"

"No, I won't stay out of it! Paris is in training…she has a little bit more on her mind than whether the dishes are done or if your fucking dog has water!"

Mike chuckled quietly to himself. They sounded like an episode of The Real World.

"Oh, I'd expect you to stick up for her since you're fucking her and everything, but I'm frankly sick of the whole princess attitude! We're not the fucking servants around here!"

"And I'm frankly sick of your prissy-assed, walk-on-eggshells-around-Jeff attitude!" Paris retorted. "I really don't give a shit if you're the King of Xtreme…"

"And I really don't give a shit if you're Evolution's play toy, I'm fucking sick of this!"

Jeff could tell by the shocked, hurt look in Paris' eyes that his last remark had gone too far. Adam glared at him, his silvery eyes locking with Jeff's green ones.

"I think I'll wait in the car, buddy," Mike said, gently slapping Jeff's arm before making a hasty exit.

"Paris, I…" Jeff began.

"Fuck you!" the diva exclaimed, tears threatening to fall. "Fuck you, and your dumb dog, too!"

With that, she turned and ran up the stairs, her blond hair flying behind her.

"Nice, Jeff…real nice," Adam remarked dryly as he headed after Paris.

"Adam…"

"Save it," the Canadian retorted, not bothering to even look over his shoulder at the apologetic Hardy.

"Shit!" Jeff muttered as he kicked the wall and exited the house.

Mike was waiting by Jeff's Corvette. Without any words, the two men got into the car and drove away.

"He didn't mean it," Adam soothed as he held Paris, stroking her hair.

"Yes, he did!" she sobbed.

"No, he didn't," Adam insisted. "Jeff's just really protective of Liger…of anyone or anything that he loves. He'll apologize later…I promise."

"Really?"

"Baby, I know Matt and Jeff Hardy better than anyone. Jeff would never do anything to intentionally make a girl cry. It's probably tearing him up as we speak."

"I shouldn't have forgotten Liger…"

"He'll live, OK?" Adam said, holding her face in his hands and kissing her lightly. "Now, I'm gonna go get ready and I want you to look extra hot tonight, capiche?" He gave her one more kiss before rising from the low bed.

"Oh, Paris…"

"Yeah?"

"Why didn't you mention that you knew Mike?"

Paris snorted, laughing slightly. "Oh, that…it had nothing to do with you…I swear. A certain other person that I used to date was really jealous about me living with three guys so I just never mentioned that I knew Miz…no biggie."

Adam smiled and rolled his eyes. "I don't care if you mention his name." He paused. "So Randy was jealous of Miz, huh?"

"Well, actually, he was more concerned that I'd be living with you."

"Rightfully so," Adam commented, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. He shook his head. "I figured it was something like that."

"So you weren't jealous or anything, right?"

"Who me?" he grinned before jogging down the stairs, casting her a wicked smile over his shoulder.

Paris shook her head and began tidying up the room before jumping in the shower. Her cell phone was still lying on the floor where she had left it when Adam had come upstairs. She pushed her thoughts of The Legend Killer aside, deciding it was best for now. Her main priority, after working things out with Jeff, was unwinding and having a good time. After all, it had been a long week.

At Trax, Jeff waited patiently while Tammy gave Mike the tour and then, introduced him to his classmates. Finally, the executive assistant was ready to leave.

"You didn't happen to wash those clothes I left at your place, did you?" Jeff asked once they were on the freeway.

"Yeah, why?" Tammy inquired.

"I had an argument with Paris because she forgot Liger again. I said something really mean to her and I don't really want to go back to the house just yet."

"Oh, great…what'd you say?"

"I called her Evolution's play toy," Jeff replied, wincing slightly at the sound of his voice.

"Oh, Jeff…you didn't."

"I did."

"Well, you better be buying her drinks, kissing her ass, whatever…at the club tonight. I'm surprised Adam didn't let you have it."

"Oh, he's pissed, too."

"Gee, I wonder why when you insult his girlfriend. Plus, you and I both know that Adam has real issues with Paris' past with the Evolution boys. I can't believe you even brought it up!"

"Fine, flog me with a wet noodle already! I was pissed, OK?"

"OK, but you still need to apologize."

"I will," Jeff replied solemnly. "Trust me, I will."

Sighing, he ran a hand through his colorful hair as his girlfriend took the exit to her condo.

It was going to be a long night.

**Please read and review. Sorry about the delay. I know this chapter kind of leaves you hanging, but it was getting too long, so I continued it in another chapter which will be up shortly. Hugs…**

**---Evilution**


	8. The Truth Hurts, Doesn't It?

Chapter 8 – The Truth Hurts, Doesn't It?

By Evilution

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. This chapter is a continuation of Chapter 7. As I was working on it, I realized that it was getting too long, so I split it in half. At the part where Paris is noticing people in the club, just for those who don't know, Mike Bucci (Nova) is Simon Dean, Mark Magnus is Muhammed Hassan, Shawn Daivari is Khosrow Daivari, and of course, Joey Matthews and John Hennigan are Mercury and Nitro, two thirds of MNM. Enjoy!

**When we left off, Jeff had just promised Tammy that he'd apologize to ****Paris**** and do whatever it took to get her to forgive him. Now, we switch to another scene in another part of the country…**

Meanwhile, in Manchester, New Hampshire…

Dave Batista looked up from tying his shoes as his best friend, Randy Orton entered Evolution's locker room and tossed his gear in front of the locker across from Dave. Paul and Ric had not yet arrived, so Dave had some alone time to unwind. He could tell by looking at his young teammate's face that The Legend Killer was practically coming undone, wanting to ask The Animal about his trip to OVW and more specifically, Paris.

"So, how were your days off?" Randy asked finally, after several minutes.

"Too short," Dave replied simply.

"How was OVW?"

"Good."

"You win?"

"Yeah."

Randy rolled his eyes. Christ, it was like pulling teeth trying to get information out of Dave. Batista smirked, sensing Randy's agitation with his aloof, monosyllabic answers.

"So who'd you wrestle?" The Legend Killer went on.

"I teamed with that Hennigan kid…you know, the one from Tough Enough. We beat Synn and her boy toys. That kid's got potential…he could be a future Randy Orton, only smarter and better looking," Dave teased.

Randy snorted. "Oh, funny." He paused momentarily. "You see Paris?"

"Who?"

"Goddamn it, Dave!" Randy exploded, punching his locker for emphasis.

Dave laughed. "Fuck, it's funny to watch you get riled up."

Randy glared at him, his blue eyes blazing. "Well…"

"Well what?"

"Did you see her, asshole?"

Dave chuckled nervously, mostly out of discomfort because he hated relationship discussions, especially when it concerned Randy and Paris, the 2003 King and Queen of Drama. Sobering slightly, he looked up at his friend.

"Yeah, I saw her."

"And…?" Randy prompted, trying hard to keep his patience in check.

"She looks good," Dave commented. "She's training hard, getting into shape…I guess she likes it there, except Nicole Fink has been kind of rough on her, but we know what a ball-buster Nicole is."

Randy scoffed. "Nicole Fink is a bitch, period. What about Synn?"

Dave shrugged. "I guess Synn's been cool to her."

"That's surprising…probably a trick."

"Probably."

"So," Randy continued, shifting nervously. "Is she seeing anyone?"

Dave stood up and opened his locker, avoiding Randy's eyes. "I'm not sure, man."

Randy shook his head and sighed. "The least you could do is look me in the eye. I mean, you are supposed to be my best friend."

Dave slammed his locker door. He turned to face Randy, his eyes dark. "Why in the fuck does my friendship with you always come into question when we discuss Paris?" he demanded.

"Why in the fuck can't you just tell me what you know and be done with it?" Randy shot back.

"Because it's not my place! It's none of my business! You know that I hate these conversations, but you just keep pushing me until I explode and tell you what you want to know…or what you think you want to know!" He angrily turned his back on his friend.

Randy was silent for several moments, studying his fingernails with seemingly great interest. He looked up, staring at the dragon tattoo on Dave's back.

"So are you gonna tell me?" The Legend Killer urged.

Dave kicked the locker violently before spinning around to face his friend, his dark eyes flashing.

"She's with Edge, OK!" The Animal snapped. "Are you satisfied now?"

Randy blinked and swallowed hard, trying to fight the bile rising in his throat. He felt like a cold, icy fist had just hit him in the stomach. He felt almost as bad as when he'd found out Paris had slept with Paul. He half-expected to hear that she'd hooked up with one of the OVW studs, but never in a million years did he anticipate that she was with Adam Copeland. He'd tried to warn her. Not only was Adam a total letch and the biggest degenerate in the WWE, but he was Paul's crony to boot. Not many people knew that, but Randy was one of the select few who did.

"I'm sorry, man," Dave said, his voice softer. "She said they're not a couple, that they're just…"

Randy put his hand up, halting Dave's sentence. He laughed bitterly. "It's OK, Dave…it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what they are."

Dave shrugged. "Sorry, man."

He had no intention of finishing that sentence and if he had, he was simply going to leave it at 'just friends.' How was he supposed to tell his best friend that the girl he loved and one of his worst enemies were 'fuck buddies?'

Randy breathed deeply as he leaned back and rested his head against the locker. He felt physically sick, but there was nothing he could do about it. Paris was no longer his. As if screwing Adam wasn't bad enough, it totally galled Randy that Paul probably knew about it. He was probably encouraging the Canadian to finish his dirty work.

Like clockwork, the locker room door swung open and the very object of Randy's thoughts walked in, sans Ric Flair. Paul strolled casually up to his Evolution teammates and frowned, noting Randy's dark look and Dave's solemn demeanor. The Game chuckled, trying to ease the tension.

"Jesus Christ, who died?" he quipped.

Randy glared at him, the angry sting of betrayal still fresh. "No one…yet," The Legend Killer stated, calm and deadly.

Paul cocked an eyebrow. "What crawled up your ass?"

"Nothing," Randy replied stoically.

"Then, what's the problem?"

"Oh, nothing…other than I just found out your asshole buddy Copeland is fucking Paris…but other than that, everything's just peachy."

Paul sighed and glanced at Dave, who looked away. "Yeah, I'm not really happy about that myself," The Cerebral Assassin remarked.

Randy snorted ruefully. "I should have known that you knew about it. What's the scam, Paul? Are you encouraging him to pick up where you left off?"

Paul put a hand up as he shook his head in disbelief. "Look, Orton…it's not what you think. Adam's had his radar on Paris from the moment he met her…he didn't need any encouragement from me."

"Yeah, right," Randy scoffed. "So what, Paul? You just take her virginity and then, feed her to the wolves. That's so typical of you."

"I'm not having this conversation with you again, Orton. I'm really getting tired of taking the blame because you weren't man enough to tell Paris the truth."

"You could have backed down when you found out how I felt about her," Randy said through gritted teeth.

"I never back down," Paul told him.

"Jesus, enough!" Dave exploded, slamming his locker. "I'm so anxious to hear this conversation for the 900th time." He turned to Paul and pointed a finger in The Game's face. "You need to learn how to let sleeping dogs lie," The Animal stated. "And you," he said, focusing on Randy. "Need to either stop carrying the torch or be a man and go do something about it. Fuck, I'm sick of this!"

With that, Evolution's Enforcer stomped into the bathroom, slamming the door in his wake.

"Listen, Randy…" Paul began.

"Save it," The Legend Killer spat before storming out of the locker room, slamming the door even more forcefully than Batista had only moments earlier.

Paul sighed and rand a hand through his long hair. His entire world was unraveling around him…and all because of one little blond bimbo that none of the three gods of Evolution could seem to forget. She even had Dave wound up like a yo-yo and he wasn't even romantically interested in her. Paul opened his gym bag and was hit with the familiar pang of anger when he didn't see the World Heavyweight title lying on top of his clothes. He didn't have his title; he sure as hell didn't have the girl; and if things kept up the way they were going, he wasn't going to have a team either. Evolution was on the verge of imploding on itself. If only Orton would stop standing around holding his dick like an idiot and go claim his property. Of course, Paul realized that he should have been following his own advice. Maybe he was the one who needed to stop standing around holding his dick like an idiot. Maybe he needed to go stake his claim. Unfortunately, Paris didn't love him like she loved Randy, and Paul wasn't sure if it was love he felt for her. But then again, anyone would be better for Paris than Adam Copeland.

Paul stared at his cell phone, remembering his last conversation with the arrogant Canadian. It had only been a couple of weeks ago and Paul had no doubt that if Adam hadn't sealed the deal that night, he sure as shit had by now. The Game's jaw twitched with irritation as he scanned his phone numbers. Why hadn't Paris called him? She had to have found the letter by now. Regardless of how much she may or may not have hated him, there was no way she could have read his letter and not responded by now. Maybe he had hid it too well and she really hadn't found it. Who knew? The thing Paul did know was that he needed to stop brooding about Paris and focus. Goldberg was still running around with his title. Of course, he was busy wrapping up Blade Trinity, so it wasn't a big deal…yet. When it was time to play the game, Bill Goldberg would be the first to know. The World Champion would be next.

Paul looked up as Dave exited the bathroom, wearing his workout gear. The Animal stepped past Paul without speaking and set his bag on the floor. Paul could tell by the way his jaw was clenched that Batista was still annoyed about their previous confrontation. Regardless, there was something The Game had to know.

"Umm…Dave?" Paul began with trepidation. Nervousness wasn't usually a problem for him.

"What?" The Animal replied, not sharply but not overly friendly either.

"Just out of curiosity…Paris didn't happen to say anything about me, did she?"

Dave snorted with mirth before rising once again. "You know, Paul, shockingly your name never came up once."

"I see," Paul replied, trying in vain to hide his disappointment. "Well, I'll let you get back to your workout."

Paul turned and began walking away towards his own locker, his head hanging uncharacteristically low.

Dave sighed. "Paul, wait…"

The Game turned once again and faced his teammate. Dave ran a hand through his hair. Paul could tell that he was struggling with some inner demon.

"Look," Batista began. "Randy's my best friend…and what you did…well, it ripped his heart out. He loves Paris and she loves him, but she's got this stupid idea in her head that she can't be with Orton because she can't forgive herself."

Paul shrugged nonchalantly as if to say he could care less, but Dave knew better. "So what do you want me to do about it?"

"Maybe if you talked to her…"

"And tell her what?" Paul snapped, suddenly irritated.

Dave shook his head. "I don't know…forget it. It was a dumb idea anyway."

He began to turn back to his locker, but stopped.

"Of course, there is one other solution."

"And what would that be?"

The DC native shrugged his massive shoulders. "Well, since Orton won't quit fucking around, maybe you could try swallowing your pride and put your colossal ego on the shelf for a change."

"What exactly are you getting at, Dave?"

"Why don't you tell Paris that you love her?"

Paul snorted with laughter. "Because I don't."

"You don't?" Dave challenged, smirking and cocking an eyebrow. "You have no feelings for her whatsoever?"

"I didn't say that…"

"Ah ha!"

"This is bullshit!" Paul exploded, stomping towards his locker.

"Why can't you just admit that she got to you?" Dave said, following him. "Why can't you stop being such a cold, insensitive prick for two seconds?"

"You listen to me," Paul snarled, getting right in Dave's face. "Miss Paris Ocean means nothing to me, OK? She was a great piece of ass…end of story! But more than that, she's a major pain in my ass who's somehow managed to have Evolution falling apart at the seams! And for your information, Dave…I'm not the insensitive prick everyone thinks I am…"

Dave snorted.

"Laugh if you want to, but regardless of what you think, I do have feelings and I have been in love before."

"I don't doubt that! I just want you to admit that you're in love now!"

"I'm only gonna say this one more time, asshole," The Game stated, nose to nose with The Animal. "I'm not in love with her. She's spoiled, selfish, stupid, immature…a perfect match for Orton!"

"Yeah, well, anyone would be better for her than Copeland…even you."

"Then why don't you go play knight in shining armor?" Paul suggested sarcastically.

Dave rolled his eyes. "In case you forgot, I'm in a relationship. Besides, I'm not the one who's in love with her."

"I'm not in love with her, goddamn it!" Paul shouted vehemently.

Dave chuckled before walking away. "Awful touchy about it, aren't you?"

"I'm not touchy…"

Dave glanced back at the leader of Evolution, their dark eyes locking momentarily. "Who are you trying to convince, Paul? Me or yourself?"

Chuckling even more heartily, The Animal exited the locker room, leaving The Game to seethe with impotent rage. Crossing the room, Paul stared into the mirror, trying to come to terms with the man within. Was he in love with Paris? No, absolutely not. He didn't have time for that right now. His number one priority was Goldberg and the World title. No, it was better if she mended fences with Orton…he was probably more what she wanted anyway…young, successful, virile, good-looking. Of course, Paul was all of those things, except, he lamented, he wasn't 23 anymore. Bottom line…it was better this way. Glancing into the mirror again, The Cerebral Assassin snorted with disgust. Just who was he trying to convince?

Later that night, back in Louisville, Paris was having a good time with Adam at The Blue Bomb. First thing when she had walked in, Jeff approached her and apologized about their earlier disagreement over Liger and Jeff's subsequent comments. The high-flyer then spent most of the evening buying drinks for the new diva and her Canadian companion. Adam kept glancing appreciatively at Paris, especially at the plunging neckline of her pink halter top and her tight, low cut jeans. He wasn't the only one. On more than one occasion, he caught various coworkers of his ogling his girlfriend. One stern glance from the lanky Canadian was all it took to send the wishful paramours running for the figurative hills, their eyes downcast into their drinks once again.

Paris glanced around and noticed various groups of people in the club. Trudi was chatting with Shannon's Jersey Shore Crew teammates, Danny Inferno, Aaron Stevens, and Mike Bucci, who was better known as Nova. Shannon was absent, having to fulfill a previous commitment in Ring of Honor. The Miz had joined up with his fellow Tough Enough wannabes as he, Puder, and Nawrocki checked out girls, while Reeves and Danovich, the more mature duo of the group, watched with amusement. Across the bar, Nicole Fink was holding court with The Troubleshooters…Brent Albright and Chris Masters, who was Beth's on again/off again significant other. Also joining The Mean Girls, as Paris and her friends referred to Nicole's group, were Mark Magnus, Shawn Daivari, and the Bolin Services cronies, including Sean O'Haire, who watched Tammy and Jeff intently from a shadowed corner. Paris' own group of friends included Adam, Jeff, and Tammy, as well as Alexis, Joey, Jillian, Matt Capotelli, John Hennigan, Johnny Jeter, and Seth Skyfire. Also scattered around the club were the Toland cousins, the Shane twins, and several others.

Paris had just finished a particularly raucous dance to Lil Jon and the East Side Boys with Alexis, Jillian, Joey, and John Hennigan. Adam was nowhere to be found and she was feeling a bit overheated and claustrophobic, so she decided to step outside for a breath of fresh air. She told Alexis where she was going, so in case Adam came looking for her, someone would know where she was. Once outside, Paris found a sidewalk bench and sat down. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and drew the cool night air into her lungs. Her moment of solitude was interrupted by the insistent buzzing of her cell phone inside of her purse. She flipped it open, not even bothering to check who was calling her at such a late hour.

"Hello?"

"Wow, I'm surprised you answered the phone," a somewhat slurred voice snapped sarcastically. "Where's Copeland…on top of you or underneath you?"

"Randy?" Paris questioned, her eyes widening with surprise. The sound of his voice was so jarring that she let his rude comments fly right over her head.

"Another surprise…you remember my name," he shot back arrogantly.

"Are you drunk or something?"

"Let me put it this way…I'm feeling no pain."

"You are drunk."

"Drunk enough to ignore the knife in my heart."

Paris shook her head. She was honestly worried about him. He sounded so cold and detached.

"Randy, where are you? I'm gonna call Dave or someone to come and get you."

"Don't bother," he replied. "I'm not gonna be here much longer."

"Randy, please don't drive…not in your condition…"

"Spare me, Paris…like you really care."

"I do care…"

"If you cared, you wouldn't be fucking Copeland. Tell me, does he live up to his reputation?"

"And what reputation would that be?" Paris retorted, suddenly defensive.

"I hear he likes to treat women…kind of rough. But then, being treated like a whore is just what you like, isn't it, Paris? No wonder you're with him…it must not be enough that the whole WWE locker room is talking about you…now, you want the whole OVW locker room talking about you, too."

"Randy, why are you doing this?"

"Because I can. Because then, it doesn't hurt so much."

"Randy, please tell me where you are. Just take a cab back to the hotel and I'll call you in like an hour…we'll talk, OK? What hotel will you be at?"

He paused. "I can't remember the name of it, but like I said, don't bother. I know where I'll be in about an hour and it won't be my hotel."

"Well, then, where will you be?"

He chuckled quietly, sarcastically. "Hopefully, I'll be balls deep in one of these sluts in the bar. Hey, Gail…" he called to someone in the background, possibly Gail Kim. "You remember my ex-girlfriend, Paris, don't you? You know the one who fucked Triple H? Why don't you come and say hi to her?"

Paris closed her eyes, trying to fight the tears that were threatening to spill. Just as she had feared, Dave must have passed on that he saw her with Adam. However, Paris wasn't angry at Dave. She knew that The Animal probably tried to explain the situation as best he could without getting too involved. Randy was just hurt and angry that she was seeing someone else, especially someone he didn't like. As much as she tried to ignore it, Paris seethed at the thought that Randy might be with Gail Kim. Of course, there was nothing she could do about it. And she was in no position to be jealous, considering her relationship with Adam.

"Look, Randy…"

"No, you look, Paris…what do you want from me, huh?" Randy exclaimed. "First, you fuck Paul, and now, you're with Copeland…after I tried to warn you about him. Do you think I'm Superman or something? That you can just keep ripping my heart out over and over and over again and I won't feel anything? Is that what you think?"

"No, Randy…I…" Paris tried to say something, but she couldn't find the words. There really were no words or excuses for her behavior. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

"This is killing me, Paris!" The Legend Killer shouted. "I can't keep doing this…it hurts too much. You're like kryptonite, baby…being in love with you…it just hurts too much. I'm sorry, OK?"

"Randy…please…" Paris began, but there was a click on the other end and the line went dead.

Paris closed her cell phone and leaned against the wall, the cold concrete connecting with her bare back. She tried to choke back the sobs, but her efforts were futile. Before she knew it, she had sunk down to the sidewalk where she sat, her head in her hands, crying piteously. Passersby stared, but she didn't care. She probably would have stayed there all night had she not been distracted by three shadows across the ground in front of her. She looked up and through her tears, saw Alexis, Joey, and John standing in front of her. Alexis looked worried as John bent and helped her to her feet.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?" Alexis asked, handing Paris a tissue from her purse.

Paris wiped her eyes and blew her nose. She glanced at Alexis and Joey, who were staring at her, concern mirrored in their eyes. John was standing next to her, his arm around her, his hand stroking her back soothingly.

"Randy just called me," Paris whispered. "Dave told him about me and Adam, and he was drunk and angry…"

"Randy Orton?" Joey asked.

"They used to date…it's a long story," Alexis explained, stepping over to Paris' other side and slipping an arm around the blond diva. Paris had finally spilled the story about her and Evolution to Alexis and Jillian during a lunch date a few days ago. "Honey, he's just jealous," the brunette went on.

"Yeah, guys say stupid things when we're pissed and jealous," John put in. "Why don't you come back inside and have a drink? You'll feel better…I promise. And I'm buying."

"I can't let Adam see me like this," Paris said as she dug in her purse for a mirror. "If he finds out I'm crying over Randy…he'll…"

"He'll what?" John questioned, a little concerned at how scared she sounded.

"He'll just be mad. He gets really jealous of Randy."

John shrugged. "You sound like you're scared of him."

Paris laughed weakly. "No, nothing like that. I just don't want any more drama."

"Look, I've known Adam for a long time through Matt and Jeff," Joey stated. "He's got kind of a whacked reputation, but I think he really cares about you…just from what I've seen anyway. Why else would he be jealous?"

John glanced quickly at Joey, not sure he agreed with the North Carolinian's assessment, but nevertheless, he continued to urge Paris back into the club, along with Alexis and Joey. As they went back inside, John and Joey headed across the bar to distract Adam while Alexis escorted Paris to the restroom where she could wash her face and reapply her makeup. By the time she came back, using the excuse that she'd had a little too much to drink, Adam was none the wiser and not even remotely suspicious.

After a few more dances, Paris retired to the bar with Tammy, Alexis, Jillian, and Trudi while the guys went to start a game of pool. Just when she thought all the drama had died down, Nicole Fink chose that moment to get in her face.

"Well, well, well," the blond female wrestler taunted. "If it isn't my little friend, Paris Ocean. Aren't you out a bit past your bedtime?"

Paris rolled her eyes as she slammed her shot glass down and turned to face Nicole. She was just liquored up enough to be belligerent. "Look, Nicole, I'm really not in the mood, so why don't you just tell your story walking, bitch?"

"Oooh," Nicole mocked, turning to glance at Beth and Passion, who were standing behind her. "She's a little cranky, isn't she? What's a matter, Paris? Haven't been getting 'speared' by Edge lately?" Mark Magnus stepped up and draped his arm casually over Nicole's shoulder. He looked Paris up and down, his dark eyes locking with hers as they glittered with excitement at the thought of a fight.

Paris gave Mark an uninterested once-over before turning back to Nicole. "Jealous much, Fink? First, I get to bang Triple H and now, Edge. And all you have going for you is…this guy here…what was your name again, sweetie?" she mocked, running a perfectly manicured pink fingernail along Mark's muscled chest. It wasn't as if Mark was bad looking, because he wasn't. Plus, Paris barely knew him. It was just the fact that he was with Nicole that made him a target for her inebriated sarcasm.

Mark's jaw twitched as he pushed Nicole aside and stepped forward, pinning Paris against the bar. Alexis, Jillian, and Trudi all stepped away as Tammy tried to diffuse the situation.

"Just back off, Mark," the executive assistant warned. "This is trouble you don't need…or I should say, a hefty fine that you don't need."

"I'm off the clock and away from the ring, Boss Lady," Mark drawled, also giving Tammy the once-over. "I just wanted a formal introduction to Triple H's favorite flavor…is that too much to ask?"

"I'm sorry, are you like one of the wrestler's here?" Paris quipped nastily, escalating an already volatile situation.

The executive assistant closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. Tammy felt like Wyatt Earp, watching the shootout at the OK Corral and Paris was Doc Holliday, instigating the fight with just a simple of wink of the eye. Paris had just thrown down the gauntlet. Now, there was nothing Tammy could do to shield the new diva from Mark's wrath.

"You'll remember it someday when I have you bent over in front of me, slut. Oh, and don't shake your head, honey, because it will happen. And you know how I know it'll happen? Because I've heard you're the locker room bicycle…everyone gets a ride. I'll just be patient and wait my turn."

"Is that so?" the calm, icy voice of Adam Copeland cut in.

Paris gasped as Adam pushed his way in between her and Mark, getting right into the bigger wrestler's face. She noticed Jeff, Joey, and John off to the side, ready to have Adam's back in a heartbeat. Mark seemed to back down slightly because even though Adam was smaller, he was still Edge, and everyone knew Edge and his reputation. Not only that, but because Nicole made it her business to know everything about Triple H, it was common knowledge in her circle that Adam was friends with The Game. That was one bandwagon that most people ended up not jumping on. Mark Magnus would, most likely, be no exception.

"What are you gonna do, big man?" Adam taunted. "I'll tell you what you're gonna do…nothing, that's what. Right, tough guy? You'd best just take the high road and take your ho with you." Adam glanced disdainfully at Nicole.

Mark chuckled, a little braver than before, but still, he didn't make a move toward Adam. His dark eyes locked with Adam's silvery orbs as his lips twisted into a sneer. "Another time, another place, eh, Copeland?" he challenged.

"Bank on it," Adam retorted as Mark backed away, smirking mockingly.

Paris caught her breath, thankful that the whole incident was over, even though she was greatly responsible for escalating it. However, Nicole wasn't one to let the fight die. Breaking away from Mark, the self-anointed Queen of OVW strode over to where Paris and Adam were standing. Placing her hands on her hips, she eyed the blond couple contemptuously.

"Better be careful, Edge. I wouldn't want you to fall off your bicycle…after all, the seat is probably getting pretty worn at this point."

Adam's brow furrowed as if he were confused, but Paris seethed with rage as she immediately caught Nicole's taunt. Pushing Adam away, she began to walk toward Nicole, a tad unsteady, but confident nonetheless. Just as she was within arm's length, Nicole opened her mouth to issue another insult, but Paris never gave her the chance. Balling up her fist, the newest diva reared back and punched her rival right in the mouth, knocking her right on her ass in the middle of the dance floor. Tammy, Alexis, Jillian, and Trudi all gasped as Adam, Jeff, John, Joey, and Matt looked on with admiration. Paris weaved slightly and fell forward, just as Adam's strong arm curved around her waist, giving her support. Now that her adrenaline rush was subsiding, all she could think about was how badly she needed a bed to pass out on.

Nicole gingerly touched her lip, which oozed crimson, as Mark, Beth, and Passion all helped her to her feet. She glared at Paris, but thought better of saying anything. Obviously, Paris wasn't the delicate flower Nicole had pictured her to be. Mark, however, felt the need to get in one final jab.

"Why don't you control that slut?" he shouted at Adam, who glared evilly at him.

"Yo, fuck you, man," the blond Canadian stated with finality as he turned toward the exit, his muscular arm supporting Paris as he quickly but politely bid his friends goodnight.

"Look at that shit," Paris shrieked holding up her right hand, as Adam practically drug her toward the door. She stumbled slightly, leaning against the Canadian wrestler for support, a combination of alcohol and high heels getting the better of her. "That bitch broke my nail!"

Adam grinned as he pulled her outside into the night air. Paris breathed deeply and regained some of her bearings. She was able to walk at this point, but still held onto Adam, not entirely sure that she didn't need his strength. Adam hugged her tightly to his side, a new-found respect welling up inside of him. Not only was he dating the hottest diva in OVW and soon-to-be the WWE, but she was no shrinking violet either. He laughed as she continued to rant and rave about her broken nail, her princess mentality not entirely washed away by the discovery of her inner strength. He wanted nothing more than to get her home and show her how proud he was of her. Unfortunately, she was pretty drunk, so any appreciation on his part would have to wait until morning. Nevertheless, he still would be sleeping next to her tonight. Him…not Randy Orton.

Later that night, Paris lay in bed with Adam spooned next to her, his arm curled around her waist. She was still thinking about what happened at the bar and how proud she was of herself for standing up to Nicole. Now, maybe everyone would stop treating her like some skinny little princess who couldn't defend herself. As strong as she felt, there was still one thing that could bring her to her knees with anguish and that was the images of Randy with Gail Kim that kept popping into her head. Regardless of whether anything became of her relationship with Adam, Paris couldn't help but feel that she had reached the end of the road with Randy. There was only so much she could expect him to forgive. And with each kiss and every touch that Adam gave her, it was just one more black mark that she couldn't wash away. Deep in her heart, she couldn't help but feel that she had crossed a line with Adam. Now, she really wasn't worthy of The Legend Killer. Maybe that someday would never come.

Also later that night, in Manchester, New Hampshire…

Randy sat on the couch in his hotel room trying to focus as Gail Kim straddled his lap, kissing him passionately. Dave had chosen to stay in Amy's room, so Randy had the suite all to himself. Gail released his lips long enough to pull her shirt off and to tear Randy's shirt open. She raked her nails across his chest as she continued her task of trying to seduce him. She kissed him hungrily, her tongue exploring his mouth as she placed his hands on her breasts. Randy's fingers trailed along the black lace of her bra as she pressed herself against him. As hard as he tried to concentrate, Randy couldn't get her face out of his thoughts. Every time he looked at Gail, all he could see was Paris. And when he closed his eyes and tried to pretend, it was her face and her sparkling violet eyes that he saw. Much to his shock and embarrassment, he couldn't even get aroused, even with a beautiful, half-naked woman on his lap. Unfortunately, Gail noticed, too…just a second before Randy pushed her away.

"Gail, stop, OK?"

He gently pushed her off of his lap and rose from the couch, running his hand through his hair.

"What's the problem?" she asked impatiently.

"Look, you're a beautiful girl, OK? You're hot and sexy and I'm a fool for not taking advantage of that, but…"

"But I'm not Paris," Gail snapped, rising and snatching her shirt off the floor. "Maybe if I put on a blond wig and acted like a stupid twit, then you could perform, huh?"

Randy's blood ran cold and he narrowed his eyes, his mouth set in a grim line. She had mentioned Paris and that was crossing the line. Gail was a casual lay, who took it upon herself to throw the name of the woman Randy loved into the mix and that meant all bets were off. Randy's obligation to appear polite had just ended. Calmly, he took Gail by the arm and escorted her to the door, not bothering to wait for her to put her shirt back on.

"Get out!" he ordered, opening the door for her to leave, but Gail stopped him.

"She doesn't care about you, you know?" Gail stated, her hands on her hips. "Rumor has it she's got Adam Copeland now…what does she need you for?" The petite Korean wrestler looked Randy up and down disdainfully. "You obviously couldn't satisfy her any more that you could me."

"I said get out!" Randy shouted, pushing her into the hallway.

He slammed the door violently, leaning against it, hearing Gail's mocking laughter ringing down the hall. He was sure that the WWE gossip mills would love this one…that he couldn't get it up. Just what he needed.

He turned off the lights and flopped on the bed, not bothering to remove his clothes. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about Paris and Adam, but the images kept flashing before him. He didn't know if he was strong enough to take much more. Did she not realize how much she was hurting him? How much he loved her? His heart contracted with anguish. Somehow, he had to find a way to forget.

As he drifted off into a fitful sleep, the last think he saw were two violet eyes boring into his soul.

Damn you, Paris, he thought. She was his Venus, and God, how he hated her.

**Please read and review. Bet you didn't expect two chapters, huh? I was inspired to add Mark Magnus to the story after I watched my Animal beat him and his little crony Daivari into bloody pulps on RAW tonight. Triple H…you're next…muhahahaha. Seriously, I hate it that my boys are fighting. Anyhoo, hope to hear from all of you. Until next time…loves…**

**---Evilution (AKA Jeanne)**


	9. Secrets

Chapter 9 – Secrets

By Evilution

**Disclaimer:** Hello, everyone…long time, no read…lol. Just kidding…sorry I've been neglecting everyone lately. I've been training for a new job in my company and I've been really busy otherwise. My husband and son are out of town, visiting Grandma and Grandpa, and I had a few hours to kill tonight before going to Wal-Mart at midnight to get my hot-off-the-presses copy of 'Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince,' so I thought I'd sit down and create a little. In case any of you don't remember Dan Rodimer, he was the real cocky one in the Tough Enough contest with long blond hair and he was always smirking. I meant to include him from the beginning, but I forgot, so I'm adding him now. To my more faithful readers, please don't hate me for what happens in this chapter…I'm still not sure who I want Paris to end up with in the end, so I have to plant some seeds. Also, my unrequited anger at certain people (namely Randy Orton, Amy Dumas, and Adam Copeland) for their outside-the-ring antics had to come out somehow. I like to think writing is a healthier outlet for anger and frustration…so please, keep an open mind and don't think Paris is a slut. Like any of us wouldn't jump at the chance to hook up with…well, I won't give it away. Enjoy! As usual, if you recognize it, it doesn't belong to me…sad as that is. Please read and review.

Wednesday, October 22, 2003

"Hey, guys! Sorry to interrupt," Tammy Petersen called as she walked into the sparring area. "We have a new student…this is Dan Rodimer."

Paris stopped sparring with Mike at the sound of Tammy's voice and glanced at the newbie. He was tall, probably about 6'5", which made him taller that any of the other classmates. He was muscular with longish blond hair and an arrogant smirk on his face.

"Dan, this is John Gubrurick, your head trainer, and Fit Finlay," Tammy went on. "That's Brian, Daniel, Ryan, Chris…and in the ring, that's Mike and Paris," she said, pointing to each of them.

There were murmurs of 'hi' and 'nice to meet you' all around the group as Big and Fit shook hands with Rodimer.

"Sorry to do this, Fit," Tammy continued. "But I need Paris for the rest of the afternoon."

"You heard the boss, Ocean," Fit barked as Paris exited the ring and jogged over to where Tammy was standing. "Nawrocki! Get in and replace her! Mizanin…take a break! Danovich! Front and center!"

Paris exited the ring as Danovich and Nawrocki climbed in and Mike joined his other classmates on the outside. Paris followed Tammy down the hallway to her office as the executive assistant shouted angrily at someone on the other end of her cell phone. Paris wondered why she'd been pulled out of class, but she knew better than to interrupt Tammy during one of her meltdowns. Tammy finished her call and snapped her cell phone shut as she turned to Paris, suddenly all smiles.

"Sorry to pull you like that, but I need a favor," Tammy said.

"Sure, anything."

"The stupid airline and rental agency totally fucked up Dave's comp, so not only will his flight be two hours late, but he has no car. I need you to pick him up at six and then, drive to the New Davis at the speed of light, so he's here in time for the taping."

"No problem," Paris replied.

"Plus, I wanted to spare you from dealing with Rodimer right off the bat. He's kind of an asshole."

"I noticed."

"All he did was hit on me while I showed him around. Finally, I'm like 'do you know Brock Lesnar? I used to date him.' He didn't seem too impressed that I was currently dating Jeff Hardy."

"Great. He's probably getting a full blow by blow account on me from Puder and Nawrocki."

"So is Adam still pissed at me for suspending him?" Tammy asked tentatively.

"No…he knows you're just doing your job."

"Well, Magnus deserved it…that's why I only suspended Adam for a week."

Paris shook her head and laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"I was just thinking," Paris mused. "Mark's got two black eyes and a broken nose…just like Nicole."

"You're lucky I didn't suspend you," Tammy warned.

"Hey, I was off the clock and off the premises."

"It doesn't matter…no fighting, Paris. You're better than that."

"I know, I know…I better head out if I'm gonna get a shower and dinner before I pick up Dave."

"Hey, I forget to tell you…I decided to go ahead with that Halloween party I was telling you about," Tammy added. "It's at my house, Jeff and I are hosting, and the theme is past wrestling stars."

Paris chuckled once again. "I'm sure Adam and I can come up with something."

Tammy bid Paris goodbye and headed down to Danny's office to give him Rodimer's paperwork. Paris got her things gathered up and drove home. When she entered the house, she heard Jeff out in the kitchen, talking to Liger, and Adam's bathroom door was closed, so she assumed he was taking a shower or something. Jeff popped his head out of the kitchen and asked her what kind of Chinese food she wanted for dinner. Paris placed her order and hurried upstairs where she took a quick shower, fixed her hair, and put on her make-up. She wore a tan suede halter top with a matching jacket and boots. Her pants were brown with tan, black, and white stripes and they rode extremely low on her hips, lacing up the front where normally a zipper would be. Se accessorized it with a brown suede bolo necklace that fastened around her neck, choker-style, with two ropes that rested enticingly between her breasts. Dousing herself with Estee Lauder, Paris grabbed her purse and jacket and rushed down the stairs.

The food had arrived and Jeff was sitting on the couch with Witty perched on his shoulder being fed water chestnuts out of Jeff's stir-fry. Paris heard Adam in the bathroom, mumbling and swearing occasionally. She threw down her outer vestments and went into the boys' bathroom where her boyfriend was standing, shirtless as usual, wrapped in a towel, dabbing at his scraped and bruised knuckles with a cotton ball. The bruises and cuts were a side effect of his locker room altercation with Mark Magnus a few days ago, the one which had earned him a week's suspension from Tammy.

"Fuck, that hurts!" he exploded, throwing the cotton ball in the sink.

"Oh, stop being such a big baby," Paris teased as she gently took his hand and dabbed at it with a fresh cotton ball.

The Canadian pouted slightly, secretly enjoying the attention he was getting from his girlfriend, not to mention her low-cut shirt and tight pants. Sighing, he ran a hand through his long blond hair before sliding his arm around Paris' waist, his fingers tickling the bare skin above the waistband of her pants.

"You look hot," he stated, dipping his head to catch her lips in a quick kiss.

"Thanks."

"Wanna ditch Jeff's Chinese buffet and go to dinner?" he suggested.

"I can't," Paris replied hesitantly. Adam usually got upset when she had other plans that didn't involve him.

"Why not?"

"I have to run an errand for Tammy," Paris explained. "She wants to me to pick Dave up at the airport."

Adam looked slightly annoyed as he glanced pointedly at her generous cleavage. Hearing Dave Batista's name sent him into a fit of jealousy. "So what's with the outfit?" he asked, irritated. "A little excessive for the airport, isn't it?"

"His flight's gonna be late, so I have to rush him to the New Davis and I won't have time to change. Shit, is that the time?" she exclaimed as she eyed Adam's watch while trying to change the subject. "I gotta go. Are you coming to the show?"

He shook his head. "I'm suspended, remember?"

"What about Jeff?"

"He's skipping out, too. You should just hang with us."

"I can't…I promised Tammy."

"So call her and tell her something came up."

Paris rolled her eyes. His possessiveness really annoyed her sometimes. She wasn't about to lie to Tammy just because Adam was insecure about Dave…of all people. "No…I can't skip shows while I'm training. Try to understand, OK, Adam?"

"Fine…I guess it's more important to go hang out with Dave Batista…reminders of Randy, I guess."

She sighed impatiently, forgetting the dinner Jeff had ordered. Suddenly, she was no longer hungry. "You know what, Adam? Yeah, it is more important. I gotta go, OK?"

"Fine."

"Fine."

She turned and exited the bathroom, irritated that he was being so jealous about a simple ride from the airport. Against her better judgment, she stopped and tried to smooth over his black mood.

"Are you gonna be at The Blue Bomb later?"

Adam shrugged as he sprayed some cologne on his chest. "I don't know. Maybe…unless I have something more important to do."

"Whatever," Paris huffed, turning on her heel and hurrying out of the bathroom. "I'm taking the Durango," she told Jeff, who merely shrugged as she grabbed her purse and jacket and stormed out the door.

"Dude, what the fuck is your problem?" Jeff called to Adam as the Canadian left the bathroom and began rifling through his closet for something to wear.

"What do you mean?" Adam asked, sticking his head out into the living room.

"You know exactly what I mean. Do you have to be such a dick to her every time she even talks to another guy? And now, you're making her choose between you and her job…come on, Adam."

Adam snorted. "Hey, she can be replaced, OK? And she needs to know that. The only thing Dave Batista wants to do is bring her news about Orton."

"Oh, yeah…that's the only reason he's coming down here, right? Don't forget that he has to wrestle tonight."

"Yeah, how convenient is that?" Adam questioned. "He returned to RAW on Monday night and collected the bounty on Goldberg. He was the one who ran Goldberg down! He's been cleared to wrestle for how long? Now, Evolution's all back together like one happy fucking family! So why the fuck does he keep coming down here? It's all for Orton! Orton's sending the one-man goon squad down here to keep tabs on Paris and I'm over it, OK?"

"Whatever, man," Jeff sighed, getting up and heading to the kitchen. When he reached the hallway, he stopped and turned back to his Canadian friend, who was standing in the living room, looking exasperated. "Adam, can I ask you a question?"

"What?"

"Do you love Paris?"

"What!"

"Do you love Paris…you know, your girlfriend?"

"Of course not," Adam scoffed.

"Then, what the fuck do you care if Orton's keeping tabs on her?" Jeff shouted, throwing his hands up with impatience.

"Because she belongs to me," Adam said calmly.

"She doesn't belong to anyone!" Jeff exclaimed. "Especially you, man. You don't love her…"

"And she doesn't love me."

"Gee, I wonder why," Jeff replied dryly. "So what is it then? You just enjoy fucking her…admit it."

"Who wouldn't?" Adam snorted.

"You're gonna lose her if you keep this shit up," Jeff warned him. "Girls may flock to guys who treat them like shit, but they won't put up with it forever. But then, oh, yeah…I forget, she's replaceable, right?"

"Hey, if she wants to get treated like dirt, all she has to do is go running back to Orton."

"Sounds to me like you're doing a fine job of it yourself."

"Paris knows where things stand with me. She knows how it is."

"That she's replaceable," Jeff stated matter of factly, if not a bit sarcastically.

"Whatever. If that's how you wanna see it, Jeff…"

"What I think really doesn't matter…but don't forget, Adam…Paris isn't the only one who's replaceable."

Adam snorted with mirth once again. "I'd like to see her replace me."

Jeff chuckled sarcastically. "Be careful what you wish for, bro."

With that, the man known as the Charismatic Enigma disappeared into the kitchen with Witty trailing behind, leaving Adam fuming in the living room. The Canadian shook his head as he returned to the bedroom, slamming the door in his wake.

Meanwhile…

Paris stomped into the airport, trying to fathom why she always seemed to encounter the stupidest drivers on God's green earth whenever she was late or already in a bad mood. This time, it was both…she was running late and her argument with Adam had put her in a foul mood. Had she not already been in a bad mood, the drive to the airport certainly remedied that situation. Between the woman slamming on her brakes every five seconds for no reason and the guy talking on his cell phone and trying to read a map while driving like Mario Andretti on crack and cutting her off, Paris was seething by the time she walked into the terminal. Dave was waiting for her, his luggage at his feet, the only person still waiting from his flight. Paris hoped he didn't have a flip comment for her tardiness or she might just have to show the Monster of Evolution her not-so-attractive side…as if he'd never seen that before.

"Hi," Paris greeted, trying to sound pleasant.

"You're late," The Animal replied simply.

For some reason, she could never stay mad at Dave. "I know…I'm sorry. Traffic was bad and then, Adam…" She paused.

"Adam what?"

"Never mind. Let's just go."

She reached down to pick up one of Dave's bags, but he took it from her, ignoring her protests that she'd be happy to help.

Once they were on the freeway, Dave had a chance to observe Paris more intently. He had to admit to himself that she looked fantastic, especially in the outfit she was wearing. But then again, Paris always looked incredible. Sometimes for a brief second, Dave felt like kicking himself for backing out of the bet. Maybe if he hadn't, Paris wouldn't be in this mess with Randy and Paul, not to mention Adam thrown in for extra drama. But then, the second would pass and Dave would remember Amy. It was too soon to tell if he loved her…he hadn't been in love since his divorce over two years ago. He knew Amy wasn't in love with him…not at this point anyway. There were times he could see in her eyes that she still had feelings for Matt, and that was OK. She'd been with Matt for close to five years. She'd only been with Dave for not even two months. And if the future of their relationship was anything like his failed attempt at a romantic getaway last week…well, it didn't bode well. Nevertheless, Dave wasn't about to open a new can of worms by lusting after Paris. She had enough man problems with Randy, Paul, and Adam. Besides, Amy was beautiful and she was closer to Dave's age. He was thirty-seven and Amy was twenty-eight…Paris was only twenty. Of course, Paul was only three years younger than Dave and an idiot could see that he had it bad for Paris, whether The Game wanted to admit it or not.

"So, how've you been?" Dave asked, suddenly breaking the silence.

"Good, and you?"

"I'm pretty pumped to be back."

"I'll bet. That was so awesome when you attacked Goldberg in Wilkes Barre on Monday. I guess Evolution's back together, huh?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"So, how's Amy?"

Dave shifted, not quite willing to open up to Paris about his relationship issues just yet. After all, Amy was her best friend. Plus, there had only been tension over the last week and Dave wasn't quite sure where it had come from. He had a feeling it had to do with Matt's imminent migration from SmackDown.

"Good," he replied after a long pause. "She's still transitioning back into the thick of things, but you know Ames."

"Yeah."

"Nice little six pack you got started there," Dave remarked, casually tapping her bare midriff and then, immediately blushing afterward. He glanced absently out the window, hoping she wouldn't notice.

"Checking me out, huh, Batista?" she teased.

Dave chuckled. "Who wouldn't? I mean I'm not blind, you know. Nice tattoo, by the way."

Once again, he aimlessly touched her stomach. Paris smiled. For some reason, she felt completely at ease with Dave, especially after she broke down in front of him last week. Of course, being at ease didn't explain the little butterflies that kept tickling her every time his fingers brushed her skin.

"So, Paris," Evolution's Enforcer continued. "You wanna tell me what's going on or do I have to look at that strained, trying-to-be-polite look on your face for the next half hour?"

Paris jumped slightly at his directness. God, he was good at reading her.

"It's nothing really…"

"Spill it."

"OK, fine," Paris relented as she slowed to a standstill, traffic backed up to no end. "I had an argument with Adam…no biggie."

"About what?"

"You."

"Me?"

"He was pissed that Tammy sent me to pick you up. He thinks that the only reason you keep coming down here is to spy on me for Randy."

Dave snorted. "I've thought a lot of things about Adam Copeland. I never thought he was an idiot."

"Anyway," Paris went on with a wave of her hand. "It's no big deal…Adam gets jealous at the drop of a hat. I suppose my outfit didn't help." She brushed some imaginary lint off of her pants.

"What's wrong with it?"

"It's too sexy, I guess."

Dave chuckled. "Yeah, that's the point, isn't it?"

Paris sighed. "So you think I dress like this to get attention?"

"Don't you?"

"No! This is my style…I…well, you noticed, didn't you?" She arched her eyebrows pointedly.

Dave looked her over appreciatively. "Who wouldn't?" he repeated.

Paris laughed as the traffic began to move. "Dave, stop! You're getting me hot," she teased.

"Am I?" he challenged, his dark eyes boring into her.

Paris glanced briefly at him out of the corner of her eye, feeling the intensity of his gaze. Was he serious? Dave watched her as she shifted uncomfortably, a thin sheen of perspiration glowing on her sculpted cheekbone.

"Am I making you nervous?" The Animal questioned with mock innocence. What the hell was he doing, hitting on her like some oversexed frat boy?

"Of course not…"

"Because you're like a sister to me, Paris. I just like teasing you sometimes."

"Why?"

"Cuz it's cute…the way you pretend like you don't know the effect you have on men."

"What do you mean 'pretend'?"

"Come on, Paris," Dave exclaimed, chuckling. "You've got Randy and Paul so wound up, they don't know whether to scratch their watches or wind their asses! And then, there's Adam. He's ready to kick my ass…for nothing, I might add."

"Wait, wait, wait a minute," Paris protested, putting her hand up. "What do you mean Randy and Paul are all wound up? Last I checked, Randy was pretty enamored with Gail Kim…how did he put it? Oh, now I remember…that he was about to be 'balls deep' in her! And Paul? Give me a break! Paul doesn't care about anyone but himself."

"First of all, Orton didn't hook up with Gail…"

"Yeah, right!"

"It's true!"

"I don't believe you. What…there wasn't a mirror around so he could admire himself while he was doing it?"

"No!" Dave retorted. "To be brutally honest, he, umm…couldn't rise to the occasion if you know what I mean." He felt bad pointing out his best friend's humiliation, but Paris deserved to know the truth. She needed to know the effect she had on The Legend Killer. "He was too busy thinking about you," Dave went on.

"Oh, great! He thinks about me and he can't get it up? My hero!"

Dave sighed with exasperation. Why was she being such a stubborn bitch? "No…it was because he was with her and not you."

"Oh," Paris replied simply after pausing. She got a secret amount of satisfaction out learning that Randy didn't sleep with Gail. However, it did nothing to solve the situation between Randy and her.

"Are you leaving tonight?" she asked, changing the topic.

"Not if I can find a hotel."

"Don't be silly…you can stay with us."

Dave blinked. "What about Adam?"

"What about him?"

Dave shrugged, deciding not to pursue the issue any further. "OK, I guess I'm staying with you. On the couch, right?"

Paris sighed, amused. "No, in my bed on top of me…what do you think?"

Dave chuckled, the corners of his mouth turned up teasingly. "Well, I'm glad we cleared that up because I was assuming I'd be underneath you."

"In your dreams."

"No, in yours," he bantered. "But in all seriousness, I could never go to bed with you, Paris."

"Why not?" she asked, not sure whether her feelings should be hurt or not.

"Because you'd fall in love…and I'd fall asleep," he replied, his eyes twinkling mischievously, his teasing tone returning. "Yep, I'm just too much man for a little girl like you."

"Oh, really?" Paris said, cocking her eyebrow as she pulled into the parking lot of the New Davis. "Maybe someday, we'll have to find out, won't we?"

She smirked as she turned off the ignition and left Dave sitting in the passenger side, a bewildered look on his face. He grinned devilishly, deciding to pick up the gauntlet.

"When?" he questioned, getting out of the vehicle.

Paris looked confused. "When what?"

"Never mind…I should have known you weren't serious."

"Who said I wasn't serious?" Paris retorted and with a sway of her hips, headed inside the arena with Dave close behind.

Of course, they were running late and by the time they got to the backstage area, Tammy was in such a state of panic, Paris worried the executive assistant might have a nervous breakdown. She quickly ushered the Animal of Evolution into a private dressing room and ordered Paris to go with him, just in case he needed anything. Tammy then rushed off to stall the show for a few more minutes while Dave got ready. Seven, Bane, Synn, and Hardcore Holly were already in the gorilla position while John Hennigan and Matt Capotelli paced anxiously, wondering where their tag team partner was. Within minutes, Dave emerged from his locker room with Paris trailing breathlessly behind him, holding his elbow pads while he deftly taped his wrists. The Disciples and Holly had already gone to the ring and as Dave rounded the corner, John and Matt rushed toward him, breathing collective sighs of relief that they didn't have to go in at a disadvantage. Paris handed Dave his elbow pads and wished him luck as he followed the two Tough Enough winners to the gorilla position.

"Jesus, are you OK?" Paris asked, placing a gentle hand on Tammy's shoulder as a stagehand gave her a cup of water and some ibuprofen.

Now that the main event was starting and all contestants were present and accounted for, the exec assistant could finally relax.

"I'm fine," Tammy replied, her heart rate slowing slightly. "God, what took you so long to get here? I knew you'd be cutting it close, but…"

Paris put a hand up. "It was my fault. Traffic was bad and I…"

"You what?"

"I had an argument with Adam."

Tammy nodded knowingly as she popped the ibuprofen in her mouth, followed by a swallow of water. "I guess that explains why he and Jeff aren't here."

Paris shrugged. "I guess."

"Do you love him, Paris?"

"Who? Adam?"

"No…Mark Magnus. Of course, Adam," Tammy remarked sarcastically.

"You know I don't."

"Then why do you put up with his shit?"

"I don't know…loneliness, I guess."

"You still miss Randy, don't you? Even after he screwed Gail?"

"He didn't sleep with her. Dave told me."

"I guess I just don't understand, Paris. You love Randy and there's nothing stopping the two of you from being together…except your conscience."

"And Adam."

Tammy waved her hand dismissively. "Adam's not a factor."

"You just don't understand," Paris sighed. "No one does."

"All I know, Paris, is that love conquers all…you gotta believe that."

"Tammy!" Jim shouted from down the hallway. "I need you, girl…ASAP."

Tammy sighed and rolled her eyes before heading toward the excitable OVW owner. "Think about it," she said, turning briefly back to Paris and then, she disappeared into Jim's makeshift office.

Paris shook her head as she went back to Dave's locker room. She turned on the monitor and watched the match while hanging up Dave's clothes, which had been carelessly discarded on the floor as he had rushed to change. As she thought about Tammy's words, she knew that someday she needed to talk to Randy…a calm, rational, sober talk, preferably face to face and not on the phone. Tammy was right…there was absolutely no reason for them to be apart, except pride and guilt, which could be overcome with time. If only she hadn't started up with Adam. That was one intangible that definitely made the situation more difficult, if not screwing it up completely.

Lost in thought, Paris barely noticed that Dave, John, and Matt had won their match. After the bell, Hardcore Holly, in his usual disdain for rookies, attacked John with a chair. Dave recovered and made the save, giving Hardcore a Batista Bomb from hell as Dean West screamed 'Demon Bomb! Demon Bomb!' out at the commentator's table. Apparently, when Dave wrestled in OVW, the announcers still referred to his finishing move as the Demon Bomb from his days as Leviathan, the Demon of the Deep.

Dave returned to his locker room, dripping with sweat, as the New Davis Arena was usually like a furnace, but elated that he had won. Paris gave him some privacy to shower and change while she went to find Tammy. Almost everyone had left already and Paris spotted the executive assistant attempting to sneak out the back door.

"T, where're you going?" the OVW diva called, jogging up to her friend.

"My work here tonight is done…finally," Tammy replied. "I'm heading to The Blue Bomb to get totally annihilated and hopefully, laid by Jeff."

Paris winced. "Hello…TMI. That doesn't explain why you're sneaking out."

"I'm sneaking out because if one more person…just one, demands something from me, unless, of course, it's Jeff demanding sex or the bartender demanding to get me another drink, I'm liable to rip their head off."

"You need a day off."

"I'm taking one…tomorrow. Think you can survive without me?"

"I'll try."

"Just work with your class during our normal training time, OK? Oh, shit, there's Danny…I gotta go before he sees me. Has Dave got a place to stay?"

"I took care of it," Paris assured her.

"Good…see ya in a few…"

With that, Tammy ducked out the door, leaving Paris chuckling quietly as Danny Davis searched in vain for his right-hand girl. Still laughing, Paris went back to Dave's locker room and walked in without knocking. Imagine her shock when she caught the Animal of Evolution in nothing but his briefs, just about to pull his pants up. He glanced at her in surprise and then, smirked sarcastically as she stood staring with her mouth open.

"Enjoying the show?" he remarked flippantly, jolting her out of her trance.

"Oh, God…I'm so sorry, Dave…" Paris stammered, covering her eyes as he slipped his pants on.

He chuckled. "It's OK…I'm just teasing. I'm almost ready."

"I'll give you some privacy," Paris offered, still not looking at him.

"No, it's OK…stay. I could use the company. And uncover your eyes, for Christ's sake."

Paris complied and was about to issue a sharp retort when the door swung open, hitting her in the backside. She yelped and jumped forward before turning around to come face to face with Synn. Synn glanced over Paris' shoulder at Dave in his state of undress and after giving him a thorough raking with her eyes, turned her attention back to Paris. Her look was one of surprise, which changed to pure evil.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Synn purred, taking a step toward Paris.

"Of course not," Paris replied, instinctively stepping backward.

"What are you doing here?" Dave demanded, hands on his hips.

Synn smirked a diabolical smile. "I was just hoping to catch you a compromising position, Demon…you know, for old time's sake." She took another couple steps forward, backing Paris closer to Dave.

Dave narrowed his eyes. "There is no 'old time's sake' between us, Synn."

"Nevertheless, it looks like someone already has their paw in the honey pot." She eyed Paris lasciviously, her riding crop dangerously close to the diva's chin.

"Just get out," Dave told her. "I'm not in the mood for your shit tonight."

"What are you in the mood for, Demon?" Synn taunted. "An all-expense paid trip to Paris?"

"Get out!" Dave shouted, causing Paris to jump.

Synn chuckled as she continued to move forward. Paris started slightly, feeling Dave's chest against her back. The shorter woman had backed her right into Dave, who instinctively put his right hand on Paris' hip. Synn's eyebrow arched slightly as she leaned toward Paris, her face only inches away. For the first time, Paris sensed anger from the former dominatrix. Apparently, she was extremely jealous about finding Paris with Dave and was trying to cover it up with her overly sweet, sugary façade.

"Paris, sweetheart," she urged. "Why don't you run along and let the grown-ups play for a few minutes?" She trailed her riding crop past Paris' cheek and slid it seductively over Dave's pectoral muscle.

Paris glanced up at Dave and saw his jaw twitching with irritation. His grip on her waist tightened slightly, but before she could move, Dave spoke up.

"She's not going anywhere," The Animal hissed at his former manager. Obviously, there was no love lost on his part. "In fact, why don't you just salvage your dignity and get the fuck out of here before I get really pissed off?"

Synn blinked, her face a mask of mock innocence. "My dignity? Whatever are you referring to, Demon?"

"I know why you came in here, Synn."

"Do you?"

"Yeah, I do, and the answer's still no…just like it was always no."

Paris suppressed a giggle. It appeared as if Synn had a bit of a crush on her former charge, but Dave wasn't the least bit interested. Frankly, it sounded like he never had been interested. Paris didn't know why, but she got a charge of perverse pleasure out of knowing that Dave had never been intimate with Synn.

"Is that so?" Synn challenged as she pressed even closer to Paris and glared at Dave over Paris' shoulder.

"Yeah, it is," Dave taunted back, tensing his muscles so as to inflate his massive chest to its full width. "As a matter of fact, I was about to step over the boarding gate for that trip you mentioned earlier…when you so rudely interrupted. Of course, Paris was too polite to tell you."

Paris jumped once again as she felt Dave's other arm snake around her waist, his fingers stroking the bare skin on her stomach, and she realized that he was insinuating that Synn had walked in on them about to have sex. Normally, this would have upset her, given the state her reputation was already in, but her friendship with Dave and her extreme distrust of Synn forced her to play along. Picking up the gauntlet, Paris smirked arrogantly at her shorter, heavier rival and trailed her fingertips seductively along Dave's arm.

Synn's eyes narrowed and her mouth was set in a grim line. "I don't believe you," she stated, her icy glares shifting back and forth between them, trying to sniff out a weakness.

"Believe it," Dave retorted. "In fact, believe this."

Synn backed up, looking scandalized mixed with shocked anger as Dave removed his hand from Paris' hip and swept her long, blond hair off of her shoulder, his other arm gripping her waist, pulling her tightly against him. Paris tried to hide her surprise and continue playing along, but she couldn't help shivering slightly as she felt his lips on her neck, his tongue gently touching her smooth skin. She inhaled sharply as her knees went weak and she felt her nipples tighten almost painfully under her suede top. God, stop it, Paris, her brain screamed. You're only acting and this is Dave…Dave! Your best friend's boyfriend!

After what seemed like forever, Dave removed his lips from Paris' neck and locked both of his arms around her waist. He smirked pimpishly at Synn as he rested his face against Paris' head, her soft hair tickling his cheek and nose.

Synn glared at both of them, nothing but pure hatred in her eyes. "Your loss, Demon," she quipped before turning on her stiletto heels to leave. "Oh, and Paris…better hope Edge doesn't find out."

"Get out!" Dave repeated.

Synn smirked, her hand on the door. "By the way, Demon…a chain is only as strong as its weakest link. I hear you're the weak link in Evolution. It looks like the ring isn't the only place you come in behind Trips and Orton." She stared pointedly at Paris, her green eyes like daggers.

"I said get out!" Dave snarled.

Synn laughed as she left, the sound like chiming bells, only harsh and mocking. They could still hear it long after the door was closed.

Dave swallowed hard, trying to overcome the rage boiling up inside of him, not just at Synn's audacity, but the nasty barb she made about his adequacy in comparison to Paul and Randy. Involuntarily, he felt his grip on Paris tighten. In response, she tensed slightly, her fingertips pressing into his arm. Dave turned his head and buried his face in her fragrant hair, relishing the warm scent of vanilla. He knew he was weak, but he didn't care. Paris threw her head back and moaned softly as his left hand toyed with her navel ring and his right deftly unsnapped her top, revealing a dark red velvet bra. His lips devoured her neck as his hands cupped her breasts, his fingers teasing her nipples, turning them into tiny stones under the soft velvet.

Dave knew what he was doing was wrong. He had a girlfriend and Paris hand enough problems without throwing him into the mix. She already had three men who wanted her…one for love and the other two for status. But at the moment, Dave wanted her more than all three of them combined…if only to quench his desires and prove to himself that Synn was wrong. Bottom line, he wanted to fuck Paris and he wanted to fuck her so hard that it would drown Synn's mocking laughter out of his mind. He knew it was wrong, but at that point, he just didn't care.

Releasing the blond diva, Dave stormed across the room and quickly locked the door. Paris was still trying to regain her balance after his abrupt departure when he came back, his strides purposeful. He gripped her thighs and lifted her onto the trainer's table, putting them at eye level with each other. Before she could protest, he pulled her close and captured her lips in a hard demanding kiss. Paris kissed him back, feeling a sense of wanting in every inch of her body.

Standing between her legs, Dave pushed her top off of her shoulders and popped the front clasp on her red bra with one finger, freeing her breasts. His eyes immediately went to her left breast where her nipple piercing gleamed enticingly…a silver barbell with a skull and crossbones dangling from it. Toying with it torturously, he kissed her again, this time softer, more sensual, his tongue stroking hers erotically. He was wearing his tongue piercing, which he didn't normally do while in the midst of Evolution, but when he was in OVW, he could be the Demon once again. Paris had noticed that he was also wearing his earrings and his navel ring. Paris raked her nails lightly across his chest and down his rock-hard abs, feeling the muscles contract and relax under her touch. Dave released her lips and trailed kisses down her neck to the hollow of her throat, his teeth gently nipping her skin.

"This is wrong," she gasped weakly, secretly hoping he wouldn't stop. "Amy…Randy…"

"It's only wrong if we tell anyone," Dave whispered, his lips next to her ear, disbelief washing over him at the lie that had just come out of his mouth. Was he trying to convince Paris or himself? Was he looking for an excuse for his lack of control? His lust?

Their mouths meshed once again and Paris responded hungrily, biting his lower lip. Dave grasped her tightly around the waist, devouring her lips, crushing her breasts against his hard chest. When their faces separated, Paris gazed at Dave, her violet eyes searching his dark ones imploringly.

"Dave, are you unhappy?" she questioned.

He smiled. "Not right now, I'm not."

"No, with Amy. I mean, just last week you were meeting her for a romantic getaway in New Hampshire."

The Animal shrugged. "Oh, yeah…that. Let's just say it wasn't as romantic as I planned."

"What happened?"

"I don't want to go into it. I don't love her if that's what you're getting at. I thought I did, but I don't."

"Then, you need to tell her."

"Kind of like you need to tell Randy that you do love him?"

"This isn't about me and Randy…"

"But it's the same thing."

"No, it isn't. Now, back to you and Amy…"

Dave sighed. "Amy doesn't love me. She still has feelings for Matt…an idiot can see it. She's so jealous that he's with your friend…"

"Amanda?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry, Dave."

"Don't be. I guess I'm glad it happened now before I got in too deep. I mean I still want to be her friend…"

"But…?"

"But I want you more."

Before Paris could respond, his mouth was once again melded to hers, taking her breath away. Her fingers played with the waistband of his pants, her mind contemplating if she wanted to take the next step. What if Adam found out? Worse…what if Randy found out? She could cover her tracks with Adam if Synn said anything and deep down, she didn't really care what Adam thought. She didn't love him and he was only using her…but Randy was a different matter entirely. If she had sex with Dave, not only would there be absolutely no chance of reconciling with Randy, it would ultimately ruin two friendships…Randy and Dave as well as her and Amy. But the consequences of her actions really weren't first and foremost in her mind at that moment. It was Dave's face buried in her neck, his lips scorching her skin, his hands roaming her body. Throwing caution to the wind, Paris undid his belt and his pants and plunged her hand inside. Dave inhaled sharply, his fingers digging into her skin as her delicate hand stroked his erection. Paris gasped audibly as her fingers traced the length of his cock…he was huge! She could barely get her hand around it! As her palm glided over the tip, feeling the warm, moist spot on his briefs, she felt something hard and unyielding. It was his piercing.

"I want to see it," Paris whispered, rolling the little steel ball between her fingers.

Dave shivered slightly from the sensations her actions were causing, knowing exactly what she wanted to see. Not waiting for his permission, Paris pulled the waistband of his underwear back, allowing his cock to spring free into her palm. Dave clenched his teeth, trying to keep himself under control so he didn't come right in her hand. Paris stared at him, curiosity and fascination crossing her face as she studied his generous endowments.

"So that's what a Prince Albert looks like," she stated.

"Actually, it's not a Prince Albert," Dave told her as he massaged her breasts. "It's called an apadravya. The PA goes in the top or the bottom and comes out the tip. This goes all the way through, top to bottom."

"God, didn't that hurt?"

"I almost passed out. And when it was done, I threw up."

"Does it still hurt?" she asked, touching the barbell with her other hand.

Dave shook his head. "I've had it for over six months now."

"Does it make you come faster?"

He chuckled. "No, actually, I can hold off all night if I have to."

Paris leaned over and kissed his chest, her tongue gently licking his nipple. "Will you let me pleasure you?" she asked, looking up at him shyly.

Dave knew exactly what she meant, and as much as he would have loved a blowjob from her and as often as he heard Paul talk about how good she was, he decided to decline, not wanting to hurt Randy. Inwardly, he chastised himself. As if standing here with his dick in her hand and his hands on her tits wouldn't hurt Randy! His best friend, no less! What harm would a blowjob do? A lot of harm! No, he just couldn't do it. Removing Paris' hands, he tucked himself back into his pants, painful as that was, and gave her a lingering kiss.

"We should stop," he said gently, smiling when he noticed her disappointment. "But first…"

Paris looked confused as he eased her back so that she was leaning backward, her palms supporting her. Dave leaned forward and placed a hot kiss on her collarbone, trailing his lips down to her right breast, where his tongue swirled around the nipple. Paris moaned and arched her back, pushing her breasts towards him as he drew the hardened bud into his mouth, nibbling and sucking, the steel of his tongue stud cold compared to the warmth of his mouth. Paris bucked her hips wildly against him, feeling a flood of warm wetness between her legs. As he turned his attention to her other breast, tugging at her nipple piercing with his teeth, Paris ran her hand through his dark hair, marveling at its satiny softness. It felt like silk between her fingers. His facial hair was just as soft as Paris could feel the tiny soul patch on his chin brushing against her breast. She closed her eyes, imagining how it would feel between her thighs. Dave must have been on the same train of thought because he began kissing his way down her stomach as he eased her back farther and undid the laces on her pants. Paris parted her legs for him, but before he could go any further, his cell phone rang. Not only that, but someone was knocking at the door.

Dave looked at Paris' state of undress and decided it would be better if he answered the door. Handing her his cell phone, he strode to the door and opened it slightly, making sure he positioned his body so that whoever it was couldn't see inside.

Paris took Dave's phone as she tried to cover herself with her arms. Luckily, Dave's massive frame was blocking the door.

"Hello?" she greeted after opening the phone.

There was a long pause, but she could hear breathing.

"Hello?" she repeated.

"Who's this?" a mockingly familiar voice questioned.

"Paris." Without asking, she knew the caller was Paul.

"That's what I thought," he replied dryly. "Can I talk to Dave?"

"Sorry, Paul, but he's…umm…indisposed right now."

Paul snorted. It irked him that he'd admitted he had feelings for her and that she was alone with Dave, who happened to know the truth. He decided to slip into character and be a dick.

"Where is he? Between your legs?"

"No, actually he's talking to someone, for your information, asshole," Paris replied impatiently.

"I'll wait until he's done."

"Fine." Rot in hell, she thought.

There was another long pause as Paris examined her fingernails, waiting for Dave to return. Finally, he shut the door and locked it before striding back to the trainer's table.

"It's Paul," Paris said, handing him the phone.

"Hello?" Dave snapped, sharper than intended.

Paul chuckled. "Jesus, did I interrupt something?"

"Don't be an ass…what do you want?"

"Are you flying to St. Louis tonight?"

"No, why?"

"Shane's been trying to get a hold of Randy for two days and he can't get an answer. He's left voicemails…no call back, nothing. Don't say anything to Paris, but we're getting worried."

Dave shook his head as he watched Paris carefully. She'd already put her bra back on and was about to snap her top. The laces on her pants were still unraveled.

"Don't worry. I'll check later if you want," he offered.

"That might be a good idea. When are you going back?"

"After the weekend. I'm flying to DC to see my folks tomorrow and then, the house show on Friday."

"No Amy?"

"No, no Amy."

Paul frowned. He decided not to push, but he sensed it wasn't all roses between The Animal and The Queen of Xtreme.

"Well, anyway, about Orton," The Game went on. "I'll check later, too."

"Cool, anything else?"

Paul paused, kicking himself. "Is Paris still there?"

"Yeah, we were just leaving the New Davis."

"Lemme talk to her."

Dave shrugged and handed the phone back to Paris. "He wants to talk to you."

Paris sighed and took the phone. Holding it between her shoulder and her ear, she deftly laced up her pants. "Hello?"

"I didn't mean to be a dick," he stated.

"What do you mean?"

"When I made that crack about Dave being between your legs."

Paris laughed sarcastically. "Hey, Paul—don't sweat it. I figured it was just you…being you. And as for Dave being between my legs…" She paused, watching Dave's eyes shoot up in alarm. "He was just headed there if you hadn't called and rudely interrupted."

Dave's jaw clenched and he tried to grab the phone from her, but she ducked fluidly out of his grasp.

Paul chuckled mirthlessly. "You're joking…right?"

Paris' laughter echoed musically through the phone. "Of course, I'm joking." She stuck her tongue out at Dave, who breathed an audible sigh of relief. "Anyway, what do you want?"

"Why haven't you called me?"

"That's supposed to be the girl's line, isn't it, Trips?"

"Stop being a bitch," he ordered.

Paris snorted impatiently. "Why would I call you, Paul? After you callously took my virginity…on a bet, no less, and then, ruined the best relationship I've ever had with the only guy I've ever loved. Gee, I'm stumped. Why would I not call you after that?"

"I figured you couldn't let my letter go without a sarcastic rebuttal."

Paris blinked. "What letter?" she asked as Dave rubbed the bridge of his nose. Paul just didn't know when to leave well enough alone. If he wasn't going to profess his love, why was he toying with her?

"I was trying to give you a letter that morning," Paul explained. "When Orton showed up in his Calvin Klein's, I slipped it into the front pocket of your bag."

Paris wasn't quite sure what to say. She was curious to say the least. What could he possibly have to say to her that would change anything? She glanced at Dave, who looked away abruptly. The only thing she wanted to do was get home and read that letter.

"I must have overlooked it when I unpacked," she told him quietly.

"Yeah, well, it was nothing really," Paul replied absently. "Just disregard it if you happen to find it."

"Paul, wait…"

"I gotta go, babe. Tell Dave to call me when he gets in on Friday."

"I will," Paris said, but the line had already disconnected.

"You OK?" Dave asked, reaching for the phone.

Paris shook herself slightly, like she was snapping out of a trance. "Yeah, fine. Who was at the door?"

"Hennigan. He wanted to know if he and Matt could ride to The Blue Bomb with us."

"You wanna go out?" she inquired, noticing that he had put on his shirt and composed himself.

Dave shrugged. "Maybe for a while."

"Oh…well, here's the keys. I need to…freshen up a little."

"Sure. I'll just meet the guys and wait for you." He shouldered his bags and headed toward the door.

"Dave, wait…about…"

He smiled, somewhat of a smirk, but not a malicious one. "About you and me?"

"Yeah."

"It never happened."

"Is that what you want?" she asked, her violet eyes searching.

"It's what's best…especially where Amy, Randy, and Paul are concerned."

"What about Adam?"

Dave sighed. "Synn's gonna tell him, you know she is. Just tell him that Synn was coming on to me and you pretended to be with me to get rid of her."

"Well, that is what happened," Paris said, overly cheerful, as if trying to convince herself.

"Of course it is," Dave assured her, winking. "Our secret, right?"

Paris smiled, despite her feelings of guilt about Amy more than anyone. "Right," she agreed.

She watched as Dave exited the locker room, his large shoulders shifting slightly. She went to the mirror and stared at her reflection, her cheeks flushed with passion. Shaking her head, she opened her purse and began touching up her make-up and hair. So what, she told herself. She was a pretty girl who liked boys and sex. That didn't make her a slut. But The Animal belongs to your best friend, a tiny voice niggled annoyingly. Nothing happened, Paris argued back. She glanced in the mirror again. She could almost see tiny little angel and devil versions of herself, sitting on each of her shoulders, bickering. Pushing her thoughts aside, she reverted back to Paul's letter. What was that all about? Shrugging, she decided it would have to wait. She was just about to douse herself with Estee Lauder when she paused and sniffed her arms and hands. She smelled like Dave's cologne. Smirking, she put her perfume back in her purse, secretly hoping Adam detected the scent of Drakar when he went to kiss her. As she left the locker room, she glimpsed the cuts on her right hand, still healing from her fight with Nicole. The self-proclaimed queen of OVW distinctly avoided her all night, sticking close to Mark Magnus, who glared contemptuously at Paris with his bruised eyes, his disdain obvious. They looked like a couple of raccoons. Paris laughed as she exited the locker room. It was so much fun being a mean girl. It was even more fun being a bad girl, she thought with guilt. Smiling, she turned off the light and quietly shut the door.

**Please read and review. I promise the letter will be in the next chapter. Hugs…**

**---Evilution**


	10. The Letter

Chapter 10 – The Letter

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, I don't own it. Thank you to everyone who has given me support with my recent issues, especially justagirl8225, wrestlinggal, tempest-races, and WWEchica. Finally, we get to see what's in the letter…I hope you guys aren't disappointed. Enjoy!

Dave drove to The Blue Bomb with Paris in the passenger seat and the Tough Enough boys in the back. It was a raucous drive to say the least. When they arrived, John and Matt immediately sought out Joey, Alexis, and Jillian. Paris stuck close to Dave as she greeted everyone, stopping only to chat with Tammy and Jeff. Paris had already finished one margarita and was halfway done with another before she noticed Adam across the bar, surrounded by what could only be described as a very motley crew of individuals. He had his arm around a blond girl, whom Paris noted upon closer inspection, was Beth Phoenix. She and Chris Masters must be off again, Paris mused. She was even more surprised to see that the little group included Mark Magnus, who seemed to be at ease and chatting amiably with Adam. Funny that they'd tried to rip each other's heads off a mere two days ago. She finished her drink and left Dave to visit with Tammy and Jeff while she sauntered over to say hello to her 'boyfriend.'

"Hello, Adam," Paris said, approaching the group.

All eyes focused on her, including Nicole Fink and her fellow blonds as well as Mark Magnus, Shawn Daivari, and the Bolin Services guys. Kenny Bolin sniffed disdainfully as Mark and Sean O'Haire gave her a thorough raking with their eyes. Paris noticed that Nicole was draped around Sean like a cheap coat. Apparently, she and Magnus weren't exclusive.

"Paris," Adam greeted, his grin overly toothy, his arm never leaving Beth's waist. "Done 'Animal'-sitting?" he asked sarcastically.

"Actually, Dave needed a place to stay so I offered him our couch," Paris replied with exaggerated sweetness.

Mark snorted. "I bet that's not all she offered him."

Nicole, Beth, Kenny, and the other girls tittered at Mark's comment as Adam smirked sardonically. He certainly wasn't jumping to defend her honor this time.

"Excuse me, am I in The Twilight Zone or something?" Paris demanded. "Didn't you just kick the crap out of him two days ago?"

Everyone laughed, as if it was some big joke and Paris was the only one who wasn't in on it.

"Adam and I came to the conclusion that it's not in anyone's best interest for us to be enemies," Mark stated. "We decided to bury the hatchet."

"How nice," Paris retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Adam, can I talk to you…alone?"

"What's wrong, Paris? Dave Batista isn't around to keep you company?" Adam mocked. "According to…reliable sources, he was entertaining you plenty in his locker room earlier."

Paris scoffed, glancing quickly over her shoulder. Much to her dismay, she couldn't see Dave anywhere near Tammy and Jeff. He must have gone to restroom or something. Trying not to look nervous, she faced Adam, secretly wishing The Animal was nearby if this potentially volatile situation got out of control.

"Synn's lying," she replied casually. "She was all over Dave, so I pretended that I was…you know, with him to get rid of her."

"A likely story," Nicole interjected rudely.

"Fuck off, you bitch!" Paris spat, all semblances of manners gone.

A chorus of 'Oohs' echoed around the group as Kenny Bolin dramatically sighed and put his hands over his ears.

"Listen, Paris," Adam said as he let go of Beth, his voice bitter and cruel. "It's pretty obvious that you're good at 'pretending.' Why don't you go 'pretend' a little more with Dave Batista? What, Paris? You've already banged Trips…just keep at it and you'll have worked your way around his whole circle of protégés."

"Now, Adam," Mark said with mock concern. "You're being a little harsh, aren't you? I mean…come on! Look at her…she's hot. We all know Batista's the weak link in Evolution. He doesn't have Ric Flair's intelligence, Triple H's skill, or Orton's charisma. Can you blame the guy for wanting a piece of this?"

Adam laughed and shook his head. "No, I guess I can't," he replied, very Edge-like.

"And after all," Mark went on. "There's no need for you and Paris to fight. You and I were able to bury the hatchet. Why don't you go blow off some steam with Beth while Paris and I go bury something else?" He slipped his arms around Paris' waist, pulling her roughly against him.

"Get your hands off of me, you pig!" Paris exclaimed, putting her hands against his chest, struggling wildly.

"Oh, she's feisty!" Mark taunted. "Do you like it rough, Paris? Does she, Adam?"

Adam chuckled. "Just give it to her up the ass and she'll putty in your hands."

Paris glared at Adam incredulously as Mark began to force her towards a side exit. Her eyes frantically combed the bar for Dave, John, Joey…anyone. Evolution's Enforcer was still nowhere in sight and Tammy was far away on the dance floor, gyrating to the music with Jeff.

"I can definitely oblige with that," Mark went on, in reference to Adam's comment. "Can you scream for me, Paris?"

"Oblige this, asshole! " Paris shouted, lifting her knee to nail him in the groin.

Mark crumpled to the ground like a house of cards as Paris righted herself and strode boldly up to Adam. He looked down at her, his gray eyes cold and ruthless, flickering over her with contempt and disinterest. She reared back and slapped him as hard as she could, her hand stinging from the impact. Adam touched his jaw gingerly and then, laughed mockingly.

"Prick!" she spat before stomping over to the table where Tammy and Jeff had just met up with Dave, who was returning from wherever it was that he had been.

"What's wrong?" the DC native asked, noticing the tears brimming in her eyes.

"Just get me out of here…please, get me out of here before I humiliate myself anymore."

Dave rose and escorted her to the door without question as Tammy and Jeff glanced across the bar at the ensuing commotion that Paris left behind. Adam had a red imprint of a hand on his cheek and Mark Magnus was lying on the floor, holding his balls. Obviously, Hurricane Paris had just passed through The Blue Bomb. Tammy smirked, even though Adam's look made her uneasy. He had that feral, predatory look that made him seem like something out of a Blade movie. The exec assistant had a feeling that whatever happened between him and Paris was far from over.

The ride to Paris' house was silent…Dave keeping his eyes on the road while Paris sniffed audibly, trying to hide from him that she was crying. He slowly pulled the Durango up in front of the house and accompanied her inside, amidst protests that he should probably go to a hotel rather than risk running into Adam. Dave refused, objecting to leaving her alone. They sat on the couch, his huge arms enveloping her as she tearfully poured out the entire story of what happened at the club.

"Dave, why does everyone think I'm some cheap piece of ass with no feelings?" Paris cried against his chest, breaking the silence after she had finished her story.

Dave's jaw twitched. What he wouldn't give to beat the shit out of Adam Copeland at that moment? "Because they're assholes," he replied simply.

"No, really…why?"

Dave sighed. "Because they see an uncannily beautiful woman, who's very passionate, who radiates sexiness, who lets everyone know that she's not afraid of anyone or anything. They're intimidated, so they call you a slut."

"But I am afraid, Dave! I'm afraid of everything! The ring, the crowds, the cameras, Synn, Nicole, Randy, the pain…everything! It's just all so hard…the punishment in the ring and the bullshit that goes on outside of it."

Dave nodded as he stroked her hair tenderly. Obviously, playtime was over. "Of course it's hard," he said. "That's what makes it great. When you're standing in the gorilla position, dripping sweat, feeling like you're gonna pee your pants or puke all over yourself…then, you hear the crowd and it all disappears. The fear, the doubt…it all goes away and you're there for one reason…to entertain. If it wasn't hard, everyone would do it."

Paris sniffed and laughed weakly. "You sound like Paul."

"Who do you think said those words to me when I was in doubt? Not just to me…to Randy, to Cena, to every one of us. You might dislike Paul, but know this about him…he loves this business. He eats, sleeps, and breathes wrestling. He'd die for it. So when you say you're scared…well, we're all scared. But we know what we have to do. You know what you have to do, Paris…you just don't wanna face it. You don't think you're strong enough, but you are."

Paris wiped her face with her hands. She knew he was right. But if she was so strong, why did she feel so weak and helpless? Why did she let Adam dominate her? Why did she let Mark and Nicole and Synn intimidate her? Why couldn't she face Randy?

"I'm gonna go to bed," she said, rising and ending the discussion. "There's blankets and stuff in the hall closet. Goodnight, Dave."

Dave nodded sadly. Why was she so broken? Because she kept letting everyone use her. Why couldn't she heal? Because she wouldn't let herself. She wanted to wear her pain like a badge, a scarlet letter. There was passion inside of her…Dave had tapped it tonight. Why couldn't she just let go? Orton was waiting for her…why couldn't she just run to him? Fear, doubt, pride. She'd already defeated herself before she even stepped through the ropes.

"Goodnight, Paris."

As she climbed the stairs, her legs felt like lead. If only to sink into bed and forget the entire night. Well, not all of it. Just what happened at the club. She walked into the bathroom and stripped off her clothes. Staring at the mirror, she splashed cold water on her face, a few drops settling on her red velvet bra. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her carry-on bag on the closet floor. The letter. She had to know. She wouldn't be able to sleep unless she read it. Unzipping the front pocket, she reached in and sure enough, there it was. A crisp white envelope that said 'Paris' in Paul's distinct script. She tore it open, not bothering with preliminaries as her eyes scanned the page, tears forming in her violet orbs.

_Dear Paris,_

_I know you'll probably be in OVW before you read this and I hope you're doing well. I wasn't wrong when I suggested to Vince that he make you a diva. And despite what I said, OVW's not so bad. Jim Cornette will have your back as long as you work hard, keep your nose clean, and avoid the bad elements…trust me, you'll know who they are. You're not as dumb as you act, Paris._

She smirked. Paul's version of a compliment.

_I won't sugarcoat this letter or insult your intelligence by lying to you. I'm not sorry that we hooked up. I feel bad that things went down the way they did…and I never feel bad about anything. Something about you got to me and I don't know what it is, but I can't forget. Obviously, you're not the kind of girl that a guy can 'love and leave.' It's not in my character to show weakness…and I mean my real character, not the character I play on TV. Don't get me wrong…Triple H and I are very similar…we're both cold and ruthless, but intensely passionate about things we care about. We're one and the same. I can't, nor will I ever, separate from him. Stephanie couldn't deal with it…most women can't._

_But I digress. Things have a way of working themselves out, even when it seems like they're spiraling out of control. Considering everything that's happened between us, I wish nothing but the best for you. You're gonna be great and you know why I know that? Because I picked you and I am that damn good. The bet was stupid and immature, an act that I truly am ashamed of…and I have no shame. Please accept this small token as an apology if you will. The amount is only fitting, as is the intent, since I did ruin a couple of your more personal effects in moments of blind passion._

Paris opened a smaller red envelope and removed a gift card from Victoria's Secret. The amount…200 dollars. She smiled through her tears, but read on.

_In closing, I just want to say that I know you won't disappoint me. I care about you, Paris, and if you ever need anything…ANYTHING…at any time, day or night, I'm only a phone call away. You call, I'll be there. _

_Your friend, Paul M. Levesque_

She clutched the letter to her chest, an ironic sob mixed with laughter escaping her lips. Paul cared about her? Yes, Paul cared about her. He never once said he was sorry. He never once said he loved her. But he cared about her.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph…what now? What the fuck was she going to do now?

The next morning…

Paris awoke with a pounding headache, her mouth feeling like cotton. She glanced at the clock…it was past noon! She'd totally missed training and everything. She flung back the covers and bounded downstairs, disoriented and frantic, not caring that she was only in her bra and panties.

She saw the blankets neatly folded on the couch and it all came flooding back. Her interlude with Dave in the locker room, her fight with Adam at the club, and the letter from Paul. It was all coming back with a vengeance.

The house was quiet. She glanced in Adam and Jeff's room. Adam's bed hadn't been slept in, but his clothes from last night were on the floor, so obviously, he'd been home. There was no sign of Mike either. Duh…he was in class…where she was supposed to be. She spotted a note on the coffee table. Snatching it, she ripped the envelope open and read it quickly.

_Dear Paris,_

_Thanks for the hospitality. I slept well…after you stopped crying, that is. Yeah, I heard you, but don't be embarrassed. I wish I could make all the pain stop, but I can't. I'm sure you'll find Paul's letter eventually. Don't let it upset you…he can be an ass, but deep down, I can't help but think the guy has some good qualities. Don't worry about me and Ames…things will work out and even if they don't, she and I'll always be friends. Adam didn't come home last night, but he showed up with Tammy and Jeff this morning when I was leaving. He looked pretty hung over, but he didn't start any shit with me. In fact, he was downright polite. Miz left for class early this morning…I told him to tell Fit you were sick. I knew you wouldn't be up for sparring today. I know you have a lot to figure out…what with Randy, Paul, and Adam. I'm sorry that I complicated it further by throwing myself into the mix, but you don't have to worry…our secret is safe as far as I'm concerned. Let me know if you need anything and I don't care if Adam reads this. We'll talk soon._

_Love, your friend…Dave_

Paris smiled, thinking to herself that Dave Batista was probably the sweetest guy she knew. She was overcome with guilt over her actions the previous night. As strong as the feelings were that he evoked in her, she hoped that he and Amy worked things out. In her opinion, he was so much more of a catch than Matt Hardy. But Paris was biased. She'd never quite hit it off with Matt and she didn't have close to a decade of history with him like Amy did. She was no one to judge.

Padding into the kitchen, she grabbed a soda and fed Witty some lettuce. She filled Liger's dishes out on the back porch before going back upstairs and downing four ibuprofen. She tucked both Paul's letter and Dave's note into her locking journal and hid the keys safely in the bottom of her purse. Lastly, she called Tammy, who had indeed taken the day off, and told her that she hadn't shown up for class because she was sick. Of course, Tammy already knew, having talked to Dave and having received a call from Fit after he learned of Paris' condition from Mike. Paris went to hang up, but Tammy stopped her. Apparently, she and Jeff were having lunch with Adam and he wanted to talk to her.

"Baby, are you there?" the Canadian's voice echoed through the phone.

Paris sighed. "Yeah," she confirmed, trying to keep her voice even.

"Babe, I'm so sorry…I was really drunk…"

"That's no excuse." She was ashamed that his hurtfulness was affecting her so badly.

"I know it's not, but you weren't innocent either. Synn said…"

"I told you what happened with Synn! It was all an act, but you didn't believe me." She winced, knowing she was lying. "You let Mark Magnus treat me like I was some whore…"

"I know and I'll make him apologize…I promise…"

"Whatever, Adam…I don't want to talk about it."

"OK…well, you rest and we'll talk when I get home, OK?"

"Whatever."

"Oh, Paris?"

"Yeah?" she replied wearily.

"I thought up a costume for us…you know, for Tammy's party. We can go as Shawn Michaels and Sensational Sherri."

He sounded so enthusiastic. Of course, he just assumed that everything was OK and that they were still going to the Halloween party together. Paris rubbed her forehead and sank down on the bed.

"That's great, Adam," she replied weakly. What was the point in fighting him?

"I'll see you later, OK?"

"OK."

She disconnected the phone and lay down on the bed. Tears spilled out of her violet eyes, soaking the pillow. Why was she so weak? Because it was easier to just deal with Adam, knowing that there were no deep feelings on either side. It was easier to be detached than to have to face Randy and his mistrust, or Paul and his revelations that he cared about her, or now, Dave and his gentle, but powerful, desire for her. It was just easier with Adam. There was no real commitment, no strings attached, no guilt. He probably screwed Beth last night and Paris found that she didn't even care. It was easier to be cold and hollow. If she didn't care, then she couldn't get hurt. Being aloof and distant was easier. Not more pleasant, just easier.

Before she knew it, she had drifted off to sleep. She awoke with the sun beginning to set through the west window over her bed. She could hear people downstairs, but ignoring them, she stumbled into the bathroom. It was hot and sticky, unusually so for late October, even in the South. She stripped off her bra and panties and stepped under a lukewarm shower. She couldn't believe she'd slept all day. The throbbing in her head had given way to a dull ache. She just wanted to disappear for a week or so.

Adam was downstairs when he heard Paris' shower turn on. Jeff and Mike were engrossed in a video game and Tammy was dozing on the couch. He ducked briefly into his room and then, went into the kitchen where he poured Paris a glass of white wine. Before heading upstairs, he dropped a small tablet into the glass. Just a muscle relaxant. Obviously, she was under stress and needed some kind of relief. More than anything, he wanted to make peace with her. Inwardly, he was seething with rage and jealousy. He was angry that Dave Batista had slept here, he was angry at Paris for slapping him, and he was angry about her indifference towards him on the phone earlier. But on the other hand, The Animal had slept on the couch, the slap was pretty much well-deserved, and her indifference wasn't surprising considering the way he had treated her the night before. These factors still didn't keep him from being more than a little irritated. Paris had too many distractions in her life. Hopefully, now that Evolution was back together, he wouldn't have to worry about Paul's lackey showing up here anymore. Paris could concentrate on her training, her debut, and…on him.

He entered the bathroom quietly and set the wine on the vanity. Slipping off his track pants, he climbed into the shower, taking the wine glass with him. He touched Paris' shoulder and she flinched, but only momentarily.

"Paris, look at me," he ordered, shielding the wine from the spraying water.

Paris turned around and stared at him. There was no emotion in her eyes. He kissed her. Her lips yielded, but there was no fire.

"Baby, I'm looking you in the eye and telling you I'm sorry. I already talked to Mark and I told him if he wants things to stay cool with us, he'll apologize to you."

She smiled weakly. "I appreciate it, Adam."

"So you forgive me?"

"What's not to forgive? You were drunk, right?" It was futile to fight.

He smiled toothily. "Yeah, I was…really drunk. It won't happen again."

She nodded, deciding not to bring up Beth at that moment. He handed her the wine.

"Here…drink this. It'll help you relax."

"Thanks," she replied, taking a sip.

"Drink up," Adam urged. "You're freezing. This will warm you up." His fingers tipped the glass to her mouth slightly.

Paris downed the wine and Adam set the glass outside the tub. She turned back around and let the stinging spray hit her chest and stomach as Adam's hands kneaded her shoulders.

"God, you're tense," Adam remarked, his hands working the knots in her neck. "I think you need a weekend off. At least, we can kick back and have some fun tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Paris murmured, her eyes closed.

"Yeah…Steph and Shawn's wedding."

Paris' shoulders slumped forward. She had completely forgotten about the wedding. Adam, Tammy, and Jeff had all taken the weekend off and Adam had been talking about it for some time. Paris wouldn't have been lying if she said that she wasn't looking forward to the festivities. Paul's close association with Vince and Stephanie's futile hope of making peace between her future husband and his ex-best friend pretty much guaranteed that Paul would be there. And if Paul was there, most likely Randy would be there. Paris was apprehensive enough about seeing them again…she didn't need the added stress of said reunion being at Stephanie McMahon's wedding of all places. But before she could brood on it further, Adam's voice distracted her.

"You didn't forget, did you?" the blond Canadian questioned.

"No…no, of course not," Paris replied absently as she tried to focus on the water swirling down the drain. For some reason, when she opened her eyes, her mind was clouded with cobwebs. "I'm sure it'll be fun," she babbled on. "When are we leaving again?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," Adam said, watching her suspiciously, his mouth curving into a smile as he steadied her with his strong hands. "Paris, are you OK?"

Paris rubbed her eyes and shook her head, trying to emerge from the fog she felt creeping into her mind. Suddenly, the bathtub floor blurred as she fell forward, a muscular arm catching her before everything went black.

Friday morning…

Paris opened her eyes and blinked several times as she tried to reorient herself to her surroundings. Her mouth was dry and her eyes felt fuzzy, but most of all, she couldn't drown out the ringing sound in her ears. Shifting slightly, she realized that the annoying sound wasn't in her head…it was her cell phone. Grabbing blindly for the offending object, she managed to grasp it after knocking a couple of unlit candles off of her nightstand.

"Hello?" she mumbled, sounding as if she were waking up from a bad night of drinking.

"You just decide to take the whole weekend off, Sleeping Beauty?" Tammy's cheerful voice echoed through the phone.

"No," Paris snapped. She rolled over grumpily and winced, arching her back in pain. Not only was there a nasty telltale burning sensation between her legs, but her back felt like little needles were sticking her through the mattress. Wrinkling her nose, she observed that the bed was slightly damp and hardened pink stuff was congealed on her satin sheets. What the hell…she thought in bewilderment.

"Are you still there?" Tammy droned on.

"Y…yes," Paris stammered, running a hand through her hair. "Tammy, what time is it?"

"A little past eleven."

"Holy shit…I'm supposed to be in training!"

"Umm, yeah…that's why I called."

Paris was confused. Something had happened here, but she wasn't sure what it was. She remembered taking a shower with Adam and everything was blurry after that. Adam…where the hell was Adam?

"Listen, Tammy, I'm really sorry…I just overslept. I'm…something…"

"Paris, are you OK? You sound a little disoriented. Were you and Adam drinking last night?"

"No, I…I just had a glass of wine and…"

"You might as well just take the day off," Tammy sighed. "Since we are leaving for San Antonio this afternoon…"

"Tammy, can I call you back?" Paris replied distractedly, cutting her friend off before she could finish her sentence.

"Sure…"

"OK, bye."

Paris disconnected her phone and made a beeline for the bathroom. She had to pee like there was no tomorrow and after she did it, she was sorry because the burning was so bad she wanted to die. What the fuck…she thought, becoming angry that she couldn't remember what had gotten her into such a state. Sighing, she splashed some cold water on her face and began to brush her teeth. As she was rinsing, something caught her eye. Trailing down the front of her chest were a string of uneven red patches and as she turned awkwardly, trying to look at her backside in the mirror, she noticed that they were all over her shoulders and back, along with a very attractive (sarcastic) bite mark on her upper right shoulder. Facing herself again, she observed that her ring was missing from her left nipple. What in the hell happened to me? Grabbing her robe, she thrust her arms into the sleeves and turned to exit her bathroom, but not before something got her attention. Stooping, she picked the wine glass up off of the floor and sniffing it, noted a suspicious white residue in the bottom. Suddenly, it dawned on her why she was so confused.

"Adam!" she screamed, racing down the stairs and through the living room to her boyfriend's bedroom. "Adam! Where are you?"

Cocking her head slightly, she heard noises in the kitchen, like someone was moving around and she heard Liger bark. She knew that Adam must have heard her shouting. Was he just toying with her by not answering? She definitely wasn't in the mood to be toyed with.

Stomping down the hall, Paris entered the kitchen to see Adam, shirtless and in sweats, feeding bits of lunchmeat to Liger, who begged unashamedly.

"Morning, baby…"

"Don't 'baby' me!" Paris shouted. "Did you drug me?"

Adam looked bewildered and then, offended. His eyes narrowed skeptically. "What do you mean did I drug you?"

"There was something in this wine! Don't deny it! I was taking a shower and I drank the wine and after that, I…I don't remember anything…" Paris stared at Adam's chest curiously. His tanned skin was covered with the same red patches that she had on her own body. However, she was too angry to bother asking him about it.

"Baby, you were so tense," Adam explained soothingly. "It was just a muscle relaxant. I didn't think it would make you black out…you seemed perfectly in control of your faculties last night…" He cocked his eyebrow suggestively.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Paris snapped.

"Do I have to spell it out?" Adam replied evenly, meeting her gaze.

Paris fought back the tears at the thought that she no longer had control in this relationship, if she ever had at all. Now, Adam could go so far as to put her to sleep if he wanted to and she wouldn't remember anything. She was at the mercy of what he told her had happened.

"Did we have…sex?" Paris asked, finding it difficult to finish the question.

"You mean you don't remember?"

"Stop answering my questions with questions, Adam! I'm dead fucking serious here! What in the hell did you do to me last night?"

"Now, just a goddamn minute!" Adam exploded, slamming a spoon on the counter and causing Paris to jump. "Is this the thanks I get for trying to be a thoughtful boyfriend and relieve some of your stress, brought on by none other than your good buddy, Dave Batista, I might add? Is this how I get treated for caring about you? For wanting to make you feel better? For trying to help you forget about your problems for five seconds? It was a muscle relaxant, Paris! Simple and harmless. I use them for my neck…Jeff uses them for his shoulder. They're prescribed and totally legal…no harm, no foul! Don't stand here and fucking treat me like I'm some kind of degenerate who…who took you against your will or some bullshit like that!"

"But you gave it to me without my permission! Without me knowing it!"

"And how the fuck was I supposed to know that it'd turn you into a raving nymphomaniac? 'Oh, Adam…spank me, pull my hair…fuck me harder!'"

"Shut up! You know I'm not like that…"

"Do I?"

"Yeah, you do!"

Adam inhaled sharply, desperately wanting to put her spoiled ass in its place, but he ended up stepping out of character and taking the high road, trying to soothe her bruised ego, placate her as best he could.

"Look, Paris," Adam began calmly. "I never meant to hurt you and maybe what I did was stupid, but I was only doing it because I care. You've been so unhappy lately and I can't help but think that it's because Dave kept coming down here. Those guys hurt you, baby, and you act like you just want to forget what they did to you. Dave may be a nice guy, but he's just as guilty as Randy and Paul are. They all took advantage of you, they all lied to you…I just wanted to make it all go away. I was such a jerk at the Bomb, I just wanted to make it up to you." He hung his head dejectedly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, pleased that he had turned in another Oscar-worthy performance for Paris' benefit.

Paris immediately felt guilty, which was exactly how Adam had hoped she would feel. Maybe he was just trying to help, but she couldn't ignore the little voice trying to warn her that she was only being played again.

"Adam, I…I just don't understand…"

"Let's just forget about it," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Just understand that I care about you…I love you. I won't do it again unless I have your permission, OK?"

Paris blinked. Had he just told her he loved her? Who was he trying to kid? She knew he didn't love her, just as she didn't love him. And even though what he did was stupid, Paris just couldn't bring herself to believe that he meant any harm. Adam was jealous, insecure, and insensitive, but she didn't honestly believe that he was malicious or that he would intentionally hurt someone.

"So do you forgive me?" Adam asked, rubbing her arms.

"Just don't do it again," Paris replied, setting the wine glass on the counter for emphasis. Turning, she went to exit the kitchen as Adam tried to hide his irritation that she hadn't said whether she forgave or not.

"Oh, Adam?"

"Yeah?"

"What are these red marks from?" She pulled back her robe to show him the marks on her shoulders and chest.

Adam smirked somewhat as he brushed his hand down his abs. "Candle wax," he stated simply. "And in case you're wondering what happened to your nipple ring…it's on your dresser. I was pulling on it and the bead popped out, so you told me to take it out."

Paris nodded, not sure if she should be embarrassed or angry or both. Despite her outward demeanor, she was seething inside and nothing would ever erase the feeling of betrayal she felt at that moment. Adam had violated a trust and basically, he didn't think it was a big deal that he had done so. He wasn't sorry, he had no remorse…all he had was complete and total control…and he knew it. Paris would never know exactly what she had done last night. Apparently, she had acted like an unadulterated whore, but she only had Adam's word to go by. There were no recollections of her own that she could count on.

A few hours later, Paris had showered, dressed, and packed for her trip to San Antonio for Shawn and Stephanie's wedding. She was waiting in front of the house with Adam when Jeff and Tammy pulled up in Tammy's red Cavalier, and the blond executive assistant began transferring her luggage into the Durango as Jeff hurried inside to grab his bags. She had to admit that she felt considerably better, although her hostility toward Adam had still not completely abated. Tammy noticed the tension and once they were in the air, she followed Paris to one of the cramped bathrooms and locked the door behind them.

"OK, spill it," the OVW executive demanded.

"Spill what?"

"Paris, I wasn't born yesterday. What's with all the tension between you and Adam? I thought you guys made up."

"We did, but…"

"But what?"

"Can you keep a secret?"

Tammy rolled her eyes. "Of course."

"Adam drugged me," Paris whispered.

"What do you mean he drugged you?" Tammy asked in horror.

"He put drugs in my drink and then, he had sex with me. I don't remember any of it, but there's candle wax stuck all over my sheets and I've got these red marks…I don't know. According to Adam, I acted like some kinky slut who couldn't get enough his punishment, if you know what I mean."

"Paris, are you serious?" Tammy exclaimed.

"Ssh! No, I made it up just because that's what I like to do…and I wanted to see how you'd react. Of course, I'm serious."

"Did you confront him?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"He laid a guilt trip on me…like he was only trying to help me relieve my stress and I was acting like a total bitch to even suggest that he did something wrong or immoral or something like that!"

"Wrong? Immoral? Try illegal…come on, Paris!"

"Tammy, I don't want to make a big deal out of this. I don't plan on being with Adam forever…I just want things to be peaceful while I'm living there."

"Fuck peaceful! I can move you to another house. Better yet, why don't you just get back together with Orton and you wouldn't have to worry about this shit?"

"You know that's not an option," Paris replied. "And I don't want to get into why it isn't an option," she went on when she saw Tammy open her mouth to protest.

"So what do we do?"

"We aren't doing anything," the OVW diva explained. "I can handle Adam. I just have to resign myself to the fact that I no longer have control and I have to be on my toes. Trust me, Tammy, OK? I don't hate Adam and I don't want to make an enemy out of him, but…"

"But you're giving him the benefit of the doubt?"

"He's been acting so erratic lately…I just know it's not the real Adam. He's what I need right now to forget Randy, OK?"

"I hope you know what you're doing, Paris."

"Just don't say anything to Jeff…or Randy…or anyone for that matter."

"When do I ever talk to Orton?" Tammy said sarcastically.

"Promise you won't say anything."

"OK, OK…I promise, but if this shit keeps up…"

"It won't, OK?"

Paris gave Tammy's hand a quick squeeze before the girls exited the bathroom and returned to their seats, amidst teasing from Adam and Jeff that even on an airplane, they had to go to the bathroom in pairs.

They landed in San Antonio around five o'clock and after checking into the Marriot, the four young people went down to the hotel restaurant and had a pleasant dinner before Tammy and Jeff both announced that they were tired and were going to turn in early. It was unseasonably hot, so Paris had changed into a pair of low cut vintage Luckys, a brown halter top with gold sequins and beading, and a pair of high-heeled brown sandals. As they walked into the bar, the diva received several appreciative glances from male patrons, which didn't go unnoticed by Adam. They sat at the bar for a while before they were interrupted by raucous shouting as Matt Hardy, Jay Reso, and Chris Irvine entered the bar. Paris' eyes lit up. At least, Trish would be with Chris and she'd have someone to talk to while Adam palled around with his buddies. But on further observation, the Las Vegas native didn't see the Canadian diva anywhere. Nor did she see Matt's current squeeze, her old friend, Amanda Jones.

Chris, Jay, and Matt all approached and said hello with Chris giving her a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"You're looking good, Junior," Y2J remarked, tapping her upper arm. "Nice muscles."

"Thanks, Jerky," Paris teased back. "Where's Miss Trish?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Oh, she's up in the room. Her Aunt Flo arrived early, if you know what I mean."

Paris looked confused. She didn't know Trish was bringing her aunt. Chris smirked and she got the feeling he was mocking her.

"What? Her aunt? What the hell are you talking about?"

"She has her period," Chris whispered as Matt, Jay, and Adam all glanced around nervously, trying to pretend that they weren't part of the embarrassing conversation.

Paris nodded in understanding. It wasn't as if she hadn't been there before herself. Hopefully, the guys wouldn't mind if she hung out with them. But before she could ask, Adam changed her plans.

"Paris, honey…I haven't seen these guys in ages," the toothy Canadian stated in a sugary voice. "Would you mind if we had a boy's night out?" He smiled winningly.

Paris tried not to look disappointed. She could have sworn that Chris was hiding the same disappointment. Taking a deep breath, she smiled warmly at Adam.

"Of course not," she said. "I was just gonna wait to see if Amy shows up. If not, I'll just go to bed." She shrugged nonchalantly.

"Baby, you're the best girlfriend ever," Adam replied, kissing her deeply, to which he got several eye rolls, sighs, and taunts of 'Get a room' from Matt, Jay, and Chris.

"Amy should be arriving any minute now," Matt added. "She's with Bugle Beak and the Missing Link."

It took Paris a moment to comprehend that he was talking about Paul and Dave, not so respectively. "Be nice, Matt," Paris chided with a smile to which the dark-haired Hardy simply shrugged.

"Where's my dip shit brother?" he went on, glancing around.

"Probably upstairs screwing the boss," Adam remarked.

"Adam!" Paris scolded.

"The boss?" Jay inquired, looking baffled.

"Yeah, he's been putting the boots to Tammy Petersen for a while now," Adam explained with a raised eyebrow.

"The Ice Queen?" Jay and Matt burst out in unison as Chris shook his head.

"Come on," Adam urged, pushing them toward the door. "I'll tell you all about it. Later, babe…" He gave Paris a quick kiss before hurrying out the door behind his friends.

Paris sighed and stirred her Appletini as the bartender set another one in front of her…on the house, for a pretty lady who just got ditched for the boys, he explained. Paris was just finishing her second Appletini and she'd just done a Lemon Drop shot of vodka when a mocking voice commanded her attention.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Paul stated, smirking sardonically as Paris turned on her barstool to meet his gaze.

"Hello, Paul," she replied evenly as she saw Dave and Amy approaching behind him.

"Fuckette!" Amy shouted, not caring who heard her as she enveloped Paris in a warm, perfumed hug, her red hair obscuring both of their views as they clung to each other laughing and crying. Paul and Dave stepped back, watching the two divas in amusement as they giggled and jabbered like two ruffled hens.

Paris took time out from laughing with Amy to give Dave a quick hug. The Animal of Evolution held her tightly for several seconds, being vigilant that no one read anything into his casual embrace. As they were catching up, Paul stepped in, reminding Paris of the reason for her solitude.

"Where's Copeland?" The Game inquired casually.

Paris shrugged, equally casual. "He's catching up with the boys. They asked me to go, but I wanted to hang out and wait for Ames."

Paul chuckled. How did he always know that she was lying? "You can go out with us then," he stated matter of factly, more a command than an invitation.

"What makes you think I'd be seen in public with you?" Paris retorted.

Paul snorted. "Yeah, I guess it's so much more attractive to sit here and get drunk by yourself because your asshole boyfriend ditched you."

Paris stared witheringly at him. "First of all, I'm not drunk. Second, who says he's my boyfriend? And third, who says he ditched me? Nobody ditches Paris Ocean."

"That much is obvious…"

"I found your letter," Paris interrupted.

Paul looked mildly uncomfortable as Dave cleared his throat, fully aware that it was he and Amy's queue to leave. This was drama that he didn't want and they didn't need. In Dave's experience, Paul was liable to get downright ornery at the thought of someone knowing that he poured his heart out to a woman on paper.

"We're gonna grab a cab," The Animal interjected. "You guys can take the limo."

"You sure?" The Game asked.

"Yeah, we'll just meet at that club we were talking about. You two kids take all the time in the world." He smirked pimpishly at Paris, who hid a self-satisfied smile behind her martini glass. Paul's brow furrowed in consternation as he got the impression that they were mocking him.

"See you there, man," Dave said as he put his hand on the small of Amy's back and guided her toward the door.

"Later, sweetie…" Amy called as Evolution's Enforcer took her gently by the arm and gave Paul a pointed look before escorting the red-headed diva out of the bar.

Paul exhaled sharply. "It looks like we've just been set up to be alone."

Paris downed the rest of her drink and grabbed her purse and jacket.

"Then, let's be alone, Game. Besides, I want to talk to you."

She began to head towards the door, her hips swaying jauntily. When she realized that he wasn't by her side, she turned and stared at him questioningly.

"What's the matter, Paul?" she asked innocently. "Are you worried what might happen if we're alone…in the back of a limo?"

Paul glared at her incredulously. Where was she getting the attitude from? A few weeks ago, she would have never had the audacity to speak to him, to Triple H, in such a fashion—with such cheek and innuendo. But she was different. He had noticed that the first moment he had laid eyes on her when he walked in the bar. She was tougher, more mature, edgier (no pun intended). She was definitely sexier, but there was one problem. Her violet eyes were devoid of any emotion. They were cold and hollow, and as much as the physical sight of her aroused him, he wasn't sure if he liked this new Paris.

"Well…are you coming?" she demanded, jolting him out of his reverie.

"Is that some kind of an order?" he growled, approaching her.

Paris shrugged indifferently. "I'm just bored standing here while you stare off into space."

Paul snorted. "Then, let's go," he commanded, clamping his huge arm around her tiny waist and practically pushing her out the door.

"What's next, Cro Magnon Man? Are you gonna club me over the head and drag me to your cave?" Paris sassed as they stood on the sidewalk next to the limo.

"Don't tempt me," Paul snarled as she attempted to struggle into her jacket and straighten her hair. "Get in," he ordered.

Paris put her hands on her hips and glared at him, refusing to budge.

"What? Are you waiting for a gold-plated invitation?"

Paris sniffed haughtily. "You didn't say please."

Paul chuckled sarcastically. "Oh, forgive me…where are my manners? Your carriage awaits, my lady…now, get your fucking ass in the limo…NOW!"

Paris sniffed once again. "All you had to do was ask," she quipped as she bent over and got into the limo.

Paul sighed as he put a hand on her ass to help her into the car, silently cursing himself as to why he was even here in the first place. He knew that any interaction with Paris was a recipe for disaster. The whole reason for the trip to San Antonio was to celebrate Stephanie and Shawn's nuptials, which he grudgingly agreed to, if only to pacify the boss. But it was his inner circle, namely Dave and Amy, who knew the real reason why he agreed to the trip and that was to see Paris. He had yet to break the news to her that Orton wouldn't be making the trip. In fact, no one had seen Randy since last Monday when he left RAW. He wasn't even returning Dave's phone calls, except to say that he wouldn't be going to the wedding. He begged off to Vince, saying he had family things to take care of, but Vince wasn't an idiot. He knew about the drama…everyone knew about the drama. It seemed to follow Paris everywhere she went. Of course, Paris, on the other hand, wasn't really acting like she cared if Randy was coming or not. Yes, it was going to be an interesting night. The only thing that could top it would be running into Copeland.

One should be careful what they wish for…they just might get it.

**Hey, peeps…long time, no see. Sorry it's been so long…I hope you haven't all forgotten me. Please read and review…I promise to update sooner and you know why? Cuz that's how I roll! Later…Evilution.**


	11. Sex, Lies, A Wedding, and A Fight

Chapter 11 – Trysts, Innuendos, A Wedding, and A Fight

**Disclaimer: **This is not a guarantee of benefits. All charges are subject to plan provisions, including exclusions and eligibility at the time charges are incurred…shit, I though I was at work for a minute. Hey, peeps…wassup? No, I'm not dead, even though I have a dreaded birthday coming up that makes me wish I was. Just kidding. I'm trying really hard to get back into the swing of this story…please bear with me and I promise, we'll get her done! Oh, and I disclaim everything…this is not a guarantee that you'll be entertained, but it's possible. Please read and review…and forgive me for being away so long…

"Take us up to the observatory," Paul ordered the limo driver as he rolled up the divider window and began opening a bottle of Cristal.

Paris leaned back in her seat, not meeting his eyes, staring blankly out the window. She shifted uncomfortably, feeling his gaze fall upon her. Paul watched her, his eyes cautiously guarded. She was different…and he didn't like it. There was hurt etched in her expression, hurt that ran far deeper than any childish bet between him and Orton could have caused. He was determined to get to the bottom of it.

"Champagne?" he asked, offering her the fluted glass.

Paris shook her head and pouted. "It's stuffy in here," she declared as she cracked the window slightly and slid her tanned arms out of the lightweight jacket that she had just put on moments earlier.

"Have a drink…it'll cool you off," he insisted.

Paris sighed and took the glass. Paul continued to study her as she tipped the glass to her lips and sipped the amber liquid. She seemed so sad and that bothered him. In fact, it bothered him that he was bothered by it.

"You're not having any?" Paris asked when she noticed that he wasn't drinking.

"You know I'm not much of a drinker."

Paris snorted quietly. "All the more for me," she said, draining her glass and holding it out to him for a refill.

Paul's brow furrowed slightly, but he didn't comment as he poured more Cristal in her glass. After several moments of silence, he decided to take the plunge and go where he swore he never would.

"Are you OK?" he asked, genuine concern mirrored on his chiseled features.

Paris snorted once again. "What do you care?"

Paul inhaled sharply, setting the bottle back in the ice bucket. "For your information, I do care…"

"I know you do," she interrupted. "I read your letter…remember?"

"I told you to disregard that."

Paris smirked. "I can't disregard reading it any more than you can disregard writing it."

"And you find that amusing? Something you can throw in my face and mock me with?"

Paris blinked. Was that hurt in his voice? No, it couldn't be. Not Paul Levesque. Not The Game. Not The Cerebral Assassin. Not the man who toyed with her emotions on a daily basis for the last month and then, ruined the best relationship she'd ever had before discarding her after he got what he wanted. How could a man who had no remorse, no scruples, no morals, possibly sound hurt? You had to have a conscience to be hurt. What Paris found amusing was that he was trying to play like he was the victim, like he was the one who had been used and destroyed. If anything, the man was definitely a convincing actor. But after all, he was Triple H, and it was he who Paris considered the dirtiest player in the game, not his mentor, Ric Flair.

"Now, why would I mock you, Paul?" Paris replied evenly, the tiniest hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"You know what?" The Game practically exploded. "I made a promise, not only to Dave and Amy, but to myself, that I was going to come down here against my better judgment and do my best to try and be nice to you, to try to somehow make amends for what I did…"

"The Victoria's Secret card was a nice touch," Paris stated sincerely. She hadn't had time to use it yet, but was looking forward to spending Paul's hard-earned money.

"Shut up!" he snapped, causing her to jump. "I sit here and I pour out concern for you, not only because I'm fucking crazy about you, but because you're sitting there with tears in your eyes, looking like you're falling apart inside! And don't think I don't know why! You think I don't have informants in OVW? You think I'm not keeping tabs on my investment?"

"Is that what I am to you? An investment?" Paris shouted, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in her stomach, which was no doubt caused by the fact that he had just insanely babbled that he was crazy about her. She was undeniably torn between shock and anger.

"You think I don't know how he treats you?" Paul replied with disgust. "And how everyone seems to think you like it!"

Paris glared at him incredulously. "How dare you!" she shot back. "It isn't enough that you've ruined my life, but now, you're…you're stalking me, too!"

Paul chuckled, his anger and indignation being replaced by total Triple H arrogance and ego. "Trust me, I have better things to do than stalk you, Paris. I was just trying to be your friend, but hey, what do I care if you like being treated like shit? It's none of my business that Copeland treats you like you're his whore instead of his girlfriend."

"You're right, it's not!" Paris snapped, trying not to blanch at his brutal comments. "And for your information, Adam treats me just fine!"

"Oh, I can see that," Paul replied sardonically. "That bite mark on your shoulder is an obvious sign of his love and affection."

Paris opened her mouth to issue a sharp retort, but no words would come out. She was absolutely mortified that Paul had commented about the mark, but what was even more humiliating was that he seemed to know that it wasn't there by her choice. Before she knew what was happening, tears had begun to slide down her cheeks and she wanted nothing more than to jump out of the limo…whether it was still moving or not wasn't really relevant.

"Paris…" Paul began as he slid towards her and put his hands gently on her shoulders.

"No! Don't touch me!" she cried, shrinking towards the door as she pushed his hands away and pounded on his chest in frustration. "I hate you!" she screamed. "I hate you so much! I wish you were dead, do you hear me?"

"Paris…"

"No, I wish I was dead…that's what I wish!"

"Don't say that…"

"If I was dead, I wouldn't have to feel so guilty and so…dirty anymore. I can't believe that I've let everything get so out of control…Paul, the thought of Randy ever looking at me again, let alone loving me or being with me…after all of the horrible things I've done…"

Paul touched her chin, lifting it so he could stare into her violet eyes. "Did I do this to you?" he asked, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer. The thought that he had driven her to Adam Copeland and to this state of despair practically killed him inside.

Paris shook her head and brushed away some tears. "It wasn't just you. I could have said no, but I didn't…"

"I never meant to hurt you…

"You didn't."

"Yes, I did. I never meant to make you feel…dirty."

Paris blinked as she looked up into his dark eyes. He quickly looked away, unable to meet her gaze. Gently, she touched his face, prompting him to revert his eyes back to her purple orbs. He immediately wished he hadn't. Below the tears glistening in her eyes, the hurt was immeasurable. It nearly broke his heart…the man who everyone thought didn't have a heart. Now, it was she who couldn't meet his gaze. She felt as if he could see into her soul…that's how it had always been with Paul. Sometimes it seemed as if he knew her better than she knew herself. Unable to keep it inside any longer, Paris broke into heart-wrenching sobs.

"Shit," Paul muttered under his breath before engulfing her in his huge arms. The only thoughts in his head as he held the shaking woman and stroked her soft hair were the many slow and painful ways he was going to make Adam Copeland pay.

Paul was so busy trying to soothe Paris that he hadn't even noticed that the car had stopped. The limo driver cracked the divider window and announced that they were at the observatory and inquired if everything was alright. Paul dismissed him with the wave of a hand and the driver took leave of the vehicle, going for a walk and maybe even a quick smoke.

After several moments, Paris finally stopped crying and began to compose herself. Paul poured her another glass of champagne and handed her a tissue while she took out her compact and touched up her make up.

"I'm really sorry," she said quietly. "I feel really stupid breaking down like that, especially…"

"Especially in front of me?" Paul added, finishing her sentence.

"That's not what I said."

"You didn't have to."

"Can you blame me? You're not exactly someone that it's a good idea to show weakness in front of."

"Because I'll just use it against you, right?"

"They don't call you The Game for nothing."

Paul cocked an eyebrow. "And you think I'm playing?"

Paris shrugged. "Prove to me that you're not."

"I don't prove myself to anyone. I don't have to."

Paris calmly put away her compact and threw the tissue down before sliding across the seat so that she was right next to Paul. Before he knew what she was doing, she was straddling his lap and staring intently into his eyes.

"Prove to me that your letter wasn't complete bullshit," she demanded.

Paul smirked as he rested his hands on her thighs, his fingers tracing across the denim of her jeans. "What would Orton say about this little scene?"

"Forget about Randy!" Paris snapped, grabbing the front of his shirt. "Tell me!"

"Fine, but you have to tell me something first."

"What?"

"I want to know what he's done to you."

"Who?"

"Copeland."

"I don't want to talk about Adam."

"Tell me."

"Is it really necessary for you to humiliate me like this?"

"Tell me."

"Why do you have to know?"

"So that I have an accurate mental picture of it when I'm beating the fuck out of him."

"And why do you have to beat the fuck out of him?"

Paul closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. This was it. She had finally pushed him to the breaking point. He hoped that she could handle what he had to say.

"Because that's what a man does when someone hurts the woman he loves," Paul stated simply.

"Because if you think that by beating up Adam and showing off some macho display of ownership is a turn-on for me, then you're way off base and…what did you say?" she questioned, a puzzled look on her face as her rambling came to a halt.

"I think you heard me just fine."

"Say it again."

"Come on, Paris…"

"Say it!"

"I love you, OK…are you happy now? Is that what you…"

He never got a chance to finish his sentence because Paris threw her arms around his neck and molded her body against his as their lips met in what could only be described as the most explosive kiss either one of them had ever experienced. Paul ran his hand up Paris' back to her neck where he unhooked her halter top, causing the silky material to fall around her waist, freeing her perfect breasts. Paris broke the kiss long enough to rip Paul's belt off and discard it on the floor as he leaned back, trying to catch his breath, wondering if he had done the right thing.

"Is that what you wanted to hear?" he asked smirking, finally able to finish his earlier thought.

"Shut up," Paris ordered as her fingers deftly undid his jeans and pulled on his shirt, which he assisted by pulling it over his head and throwing it on the floor.

Paul's face broke into a self-satisfied smile as he leaned over and locked the divider window, just in case the limo driver decided to pop in on them. Shifting his weight, Paul flipped Paris onto her back on the leather seat and lowering himself on top of her, he captured her lips in a sensual kiss, gently biting her lower lip. Paris kissed him back feverishly, running her hands through his soft hair and trailing her fingertips down his muscled back, her nails lightly raking his skin.

"You sure about this?" Paul whispered, breaking their kiss.

"Are you?" Paris smiled.

"I was sure about it the first time."

"So was I."

Paul shook his head and chuckled. "I'll only make love to you on one condition."

Paris rolled her eyes. "What? That I don't tell anyone?"

"No, that you end it with Adam."

"Paul…"

"I mean it. I'm not going to sit around with my thumb up my ass and let him treat you like he does."

Paris thought for a moment, her eyes never leaving his. "Fine, consider it over…on one condition…"

Paul exhaled. "What?"

"That you let it go," Paris demanded. "You're not confronting him, you're not beating the shit out of him…nothing. I still have to live with him, OK?"

"That can be fixed."

"Promise, Paul."

"Fine, I won't kick the shit out of him…for now."

Paris sighed. "What am I gonna do with you, Game?"

"I don't know about you, but I know what I'm gonna do with you…or to you would be more like it."

"Ooh, tell me," Paris teased.

Paul grinned wickedly and was about to engage her in a witty bantering of dirty talk when the intercom buzzed. That fucking limo driver was really starting to annoy him.

"Sir?" the man's voice echoed through the offending speaker.

"Yes," Paul replied, keeping his patience in check as Paris giggled behind her hand.

"Do you mind if I walk down the block and grab something to eat? I missed dinner."

"Hey, take your time, Mac," Paul suggested. "Like maybe an hour or so."

Paris laughed and slapped his chest as he smiled down at her.

"Do you think that's enough time?" he whispered, causing Paris to laugh even harder. "That will be all, James."

"But my name's…"

Paris burst out laughing as Paul shut off the intercom, not even letting the guy finish his sentence. They waited until they heard his car door slam and his footsteps walking away from the car.

"Alone at last," Paul murmured, burying his face in Paris' neck. He heard her laughter turn into breathy little sighs as he traced her soft skin with his tongue.

"Alone at last," Paris repeated, barely a whisper.

Paul lifted his head and smiled before capturing her lips once again. His kiss was hard and deep, the intent behind it crystal clear. Paris closed her eyes as his lips left hers and began a slow, torturous journey down her body. She arched slightly as his tongue gently touched each of her nipples, but he didn't linger there for long. His final destination was obvious. Paris watched as he intently and deftly undid her jeans and slid them off of her long legs. Her lacy purple thong disappeared with a quick snap of Paul's wrist and he discarded the torn, damp scrap of material on the floor.

"Fuck, what is it with you and my underwear?" Paris exclaimed, amused.

Paul shrugged with mock innocence. "I told you to just stop wearing them," he suggested as he ran his hand along the inside of her thigh. "This is new," he observed, tracing his finger over her new tattoo that circled her navel and trailed down to a lower area of her body.

"Do you like it?"

"It's on you, isn't it? Why wouldn't I like it?"

Paris inhaled sharply as his finger reached the bottom of her tattoo and brushed ever so slightly along her cleft, causing her to shiver with excitement. Paul continued to touch her, his strokes feathery at first, and then, more intense as time went on. He watched as Paris closed her eyes and moaned softly, her head thrashing back and forth on the seat while he continued to pleasure her.

He paused for a moment, but then, resumed teasing her. "Where's your nipple ring?" he asked nonchalantly.

"I took it out," she lied. "Because of training."

"I see you're not pierced here yet," he smirked, his thumb pressing lightly on her hood. She arched, increasing the pressure, much to his delight.

"Not yet," she taunted with amusement, trying to concentrate as bells and whistles went off in every nerve of her body.

"When you do, I want pictures."

Paris laughed. "Oh, and how would you suggest I get pictures of that? Have Adam take them? Or maybe Jeff?"

"I'll just have to be there in person," he teased. "With my camcorder."

"Just what I need…pictures of me getting my coochy pierced all over the Internet. What's next? A sex video? Have you got a camera hidden in here, Paul?"

Paul chuckled mockingly as he quickly shed his jeans and boxers. His shoes had already been discarded earlier along with Paris' Pradas. "Why? You want to make your Internet debut in 'One Night in Paris…The Sequel'?"

"God, you're an ass!" Paris stated as she kicked him playfully in the chest. "How dare you compare me to Paris Hilton of all people!"

Paul skillfully caught her leg and in one swift motion, pushed it up in the air and thrust his entire length into her prone, waiting body, causing her to shriek with surprise. Lowering himself on top of her, he meshed his mouth with hers, kissing her deeply, as Paris relaxed her body and gently curved her outstretched leg around his waist. Paul released her lips and smirked at her as she shifted underneath him, trying to adjust to his size with as much comfort as possible. Continuing to smirk, he ran his finger along her cheek.

"I never stay at the Hilton," he joked. "No class."

"Yeah, and I have more money than her, too," Paris sniped, examining her fingernails with mock interest.

Paul whistled under his breath. "Amazing rack, nice ass, lots of talent…and money…how'd I get so lucky?"

Paris laughed as Paul turned suddenly serious.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked with genuine concern.

"No," she replied truthfully, her eyes not meeting his.

"I don't ever want to hurt you again," he whispered.

"I'll let you know if you do."

He smiled and laughed lightly. "Paris, look at me," he ordered.

She complied, her violet eyes riveted by his dark ones. She held his gaze mesmerized as he began to move slowly inside of her. She admired and appreciated his gentleness. It was a nice change from Adam. But Paris didn't want him to be fake…not with her. She just wanted him to be Paul, to be himself…maybe to even be a little bit Triple H. It wasn't in his nature to be gentle or caring. She didn't want to admit it, but what she really wanted was for him to take control, to dominate…just like he had always done in the past. Deep down, she couldn't help but wonder if that made her a slut…if she wanted it hard and intense instead of soft and cushy. Maybe she wasn't a touchy feely type of girl and she knew for sure that Paul wasn't a touchy feely type of guy. This just wasn't him and yes, she wanted him, but only if it was the real him.

"Paul…" she began, but he quickly shushed her.

"Babe, I'm trying to concentrate…

"Paul…stop," she demanded, grabbing his massive shoulders.

"What's wrong?" he asked, somewhat bewildered.

"This…this is wrong…it's…oh, fuck!"

"God, what is it with you and that mouth lately?" he snapped with frustration as he pulled away from her. Paris sat up as Paul knelt between her legs.

"Paul, be honest with me, for once in your life…"

"Hey, I've been honest with you all night!"

"Then, what is this? What is this soft and tender bullshit?" He gave her a strange look, but she continued to ramble on. "Paul, answer a question for me…OK?"

"Fine…ask."

"Do you think I'm a slut?"

"What?"

"Do you think I'm a slut? Be honest…I can take it."

"No, I don't think you're a slut."

"Did you know I almost fucked Dave a few nights ago? Yeah, Dave Batista. Right in the OVW locker room on the trainer's table."

"Really?" Paul replied, trying not flinch at the caustic tone in her voice. It was almost like she was deliberately trying to hurt him…just like he had hurt her. He really couldn't blame her. After all, he had been a complete and total prick to her. Why break the cycle, he told himself, deciding that he was never in a million years going to understand Paris Ocean. "So I wasn't that far off base when I called, huh?" he went on sardonically, his Triple H character coming full circle.

"And did you also know that Adam drugged me last night?"

"What!" Paul exclaimed, outraged.

"Yeah, and did God knows what to me, and I don't remember a thing. He could have fucked me up the ass and videotaped it for all I know. Maybe he'll give you a copy."

"Why are you acting like this? Do you want people to think you're a slut?"

"I don't care what people think!" Paris shouted. "I care what you think," her voice softening.

"Then, stop acting like this!"

"Fine, as long as you stop acting…period. This isn't an episode of Monday Night RAW! You're not on stage with Motorhead blaring in the background!"

Paul snorted. "Well, excuse the fuck out of me for trying to be a gentleman…"

"Maybe I don't want a gentleman. Maybe I don't want to be treated like some fragile doll…"

"So you do like how Copeland treats you?" Paul shot back.

"No! I just want you to be…"

"What? Triple H? You really want me to be Triple H? Because that's who I was being the first time I fucked you and I didn't really think you liked it that much!"

"Stop it! Stop twisting my words!"

"Look, sweetheart, I don't have time for this…"

"I just want you to be Paul…which I realize that means being a little bit Triple H…he's a part of you. I just want you to be you, that's all!"

"And the warm fuzzy shit just isn't me."

"Right."

Paul sighed, running his hand through his long hair. "I just wanted to make love to you. I didn't want it to be that I fucked you…again. There is a difference, you know."

"I appreciate the effort…and the sentiment. But you can make love to me without 'fucking' me, as you put it. You can still make love to me without turning into some pussy-whipped pansy."

"Hey, now…where the fuck do you get this shit? Dr. Phil?"

"I think you're the one who's been watching too much Dr. Phil, Game."

Paul chuckled as he seized her wrist and pulled her against his hard body. "So you want The Game? That's what you really want?"

"I want you, Paul Levesque…and if that means The Game, then that's what I want because at least I know it's the real you."

He smirked, totally Triple H. "You asked for it," he teased as his mouth came down hard on hers.

I can hardly wait, Paris thought, tingling with excitement that the real Paul Levesque had just shown up.

Some time later…

"Oh…God! Paul…don't stop…please don't stop!" Paris cried as Paul grasped her hips and buried himself as deep as he possibly could inside of her. She was, at the moment, in a very unladylike position on her hands and knees in front of him as he thrust relentlessly into her, her hand leaving telltale imprints on the fogged up window.

"Baby, I'm not stopping," Paul gasped, feeling as if he were about to explode at any second. This night had turned into something that he had never thought possible and he didn't want it to end.

It had been nearly two hours since they had left Dave and Amy at the hotel and in that time, they had run the entire gamut of their emotions…from fighting, teasing, and confessing their love for one another to fucking doggie-style in the back of a limo. It was more than Paul could have asked for and bar none, the best sex he'd ever had in his life. Paris had transformed herself into a virtual volcano of passion and energy. The more he gave her, the more she wanted. But it wasn't just the sex. Sure, he was going to get off…that was a given. Paris had already been there twice, but she was so much more. She was the love that he didn't think existed, that he never thought he'd find. He didn't care about Orton. He didn't care about the things she had told him about Dave and about Copeland, who was a dead man as far as Paul was concerned, especially if he ever touched Paris again. He didn't even care that he was eleven years older than her. Paris wasn't interested in warm fuzzy fluff…she wanted him, just the way he was. Intense, hardcore, rated R. The Rated R Superstar (lol)…that would be a cool nickname to add to his list of many.

"Oh God…yes!" Paris screamed, breaking him out of his reverie. "Harder, Paul!" she urged breathlessly.

He smirked, more than happy to oblige, as he twisted his hand in her hair and continued to slam into her. He wasn't going to be able to hold off much longer. He was hovering right on the edge of release and he knew she was, too.

"Baby, is it safe to come in you this time?" he asked, his lips against her ear.

"For you…yes," she gasped, pushing herself against him as Paul tightened his grip on both her hip and her hair.

He could feel her body contracting around him and with one final, powerful thrust, he felt a flood of warmth hit him as he clenched his teeth and poured his release into her, both of them collapsing in a tangled pile on the seat. Paris gasped for breath, her cheek resting on the warm leather of the seat. Paul smoothed her hair as he tried to stop the spinning in his brain. The blood pounded in his temples as his body came down off of its peak. Paris pressed against him, their sweat mingling, as he cupped her breast and trailed kisses along her slick shoulder.

"Oh my God, it's so hot in here," Paris whispered, smiling.

"No shit," Paul agreed as he reached over her and flipped a switch on a console. The sun roof opened and a flood of cold air poured into the limo. Paris inhaled deeply, relishing the cool night air. Her skin prickled and Paul could feel her nipple harden under his palm. Of course, with the sun roof open, they could hear the limo driver. He was talking to someone, probably on a cell phone. Paul glanced at Paris, and he could tell that she was wondering the same thing he was and that was how long the guy had been standing out there.

"Hey, James," Paul shouted. "Are you out there?"

"Yes, sir," the driver called. "I was just talking to my girlfriend."

"How long have you been out there?"

"I just got back, sir."

Paul smirked. "Give us five minutes and then, we need to get back to Caliente ASAP."

"Yes, sir."

Paul closed the sun roof and turned on the air as he and Paris began gathering their clothes and personal effects. They were still dressing when the limo began moving and heading back towards downtown San Antonio and the club Caliente, where Dave and Amy were supposed to be waiting, but had possibly left by now.

"What time is it?" Paris asked as she turned so that Paul could fasten her halter top for her.

"Nearly midnight," he murmured, dropping a kiss on her shoulder after he hooked her top.

"Do you think Dave and Ames are still there?"

"Hard to say. Depends on how bored Dave got."

Paul watched Paris with amusement as she touched up her face and applied some lip gloss. Then, she spritzed on some perfume and tried to make some sense of her hair. He tried to ignore the fact that even smelling her perfume was making him hard again.

"It's a lost cause," Paul remarked. "You have fuck hair and you smell like sex."

Paris shot him a withering glance. "Very funny."

"You think Copeland will like your new look and scent?"

"Paul…you're not funny," Paris scolded, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"I'm kidding," Paul said as he pulled her onto his lap and kissed her deeply. After he broke the kiss, he just held her gently until they reached the club. Paris relaxed in his arms, her head against his chest listening to his heart beat. She wished she could have stayed there all night.

The limo pulled up in front of Caliente and Paris stepped out as Paul settled up with 'James,' including a generous tip for his patience and discretion.

"I hope Amy's here," Paris said as Paul paid their cover charge. "I have to pee."

"You can't pee without Amy?" he joked, receiving another baleful glare for his efforts. "I know, I know…you have to go to the bathroom in packs."

Paris flashed Paul a toothy smile as he escorted her into the club, his hand firmly on the small of her back. Right away, they spotted Dave and Amy at a buddy bar with Chris Jericho. Paris felt a stab of panic. If Jericho was there, then Jay and Matt were undoubtedly there, and that meant Adam was probably there, too. She didn't want a confrontation this soon.

"Relax, he's not gonna fuck with you," Paul assured her, sensing her apprehension.

"It's about time," Dave commented, glancing at his Rolex as they approached the table.

"Fuckette, what kept you?" Amy chirped, overly happy.

"I…uh, I have to go to the bathroom," Paris stated. "Come with me…please."

Amy smirked and slid off of her bar stool, flipping her red hair over her shoulder. Jericho greeted Paul politely before excusing himself to go rejoin his friends. Paul sauntered up to the bar and ordered a beer as Amy and Paris disappeared in the crowd.

"Where've you been?" Dave questioned, sipping his beer and eyeing The Cerebral Assassin warily.

"We had some things to talk out," Paul replied.

Dave nodded. "Talking, huh?"

"Yeah, talking," Paul reiterated, but the cocky look on his face didn't go unnoticed by The Animal. Dave had seen that look before and he really didn't like to relive where he had seen it.

"Is Copeland here?" Paul asked, taking a drink of his Corona and changing the subject, but not entirely.

"Yeah, he's here," Dave said, cocking his head toward the back of the club where Copeland, Reso, and Hardy were holding court with a group of overly intoxicated bar skanks. Jericho was hanging on the outskirts of the group, looking mildly uncomfortable and probably wishing Trish was there. "I'm sensing a four-alarm Paris meltdown if she sees him with those chicks."

Paul shook his head. "Don't worry about Paris. Copeland isn't much more than a minor annoyance to her anymore." He sniffed and rolled his shoulders as if trying to work out a kink in his neck.

Dave snorted and then, smirked. "You fucked her, didn't you?"

Paul tried not to choke on his beer. "Don't be stupid."

"You did…you fucked her! It's written all over your face, although she's wearing it little more obviously than you are."

Paul leveled his glare at Dave, but the larger man didn't flinch. "So what if I did? What're you gonna do, Dave? Run and tell Orton?"

"I don't believe you! Randy's my best friend, man…what do you want me to say?" Dave slammed his fist on the bar, causing several patrons to stare. "Fuck, you're an asshole! Why can't you just stay the fuck away from her?"

"Is that what you were doing in the OVW locker room the other night? You were staying away from her all right, big man…all over the trainer's table."

Dave flushed a deep red. He couldn't believe Paris told Paul about their tryst in the locker room. That was the only possible way he could have known. Maybe he was wrong about Paris. Maybe she did enjoy these games. She certainly seemed to be playing Paul, Randy, and Adam against each other. Maybe she couldn't be trusted. The more thoughts raced through his head, the more he wanted to kick himself for his moment of horny weakness.

"Did I hit a nerve?" Paul challenged, his eyes glittering.

"You're not gonna say anything, are you?" Dave asked quietly. It was the first time Paul had ever seen fear in his eyes. "It was a mistake…she was lonely, I was weak…it was stupid, OK?"

"As long as it doesn't happen again," Paul stated. "She's mine and I don't share. Does Amy know about this?"

"Jesus Christ, no!" Dave practically exploded.

Paul chuckled. "Fuck, Dave, I'm not gonna tell her, OK? Despite what you think or what Orton might say, I am your friend. We have a lot more in common than you might think."

"I doubt it, but anything's possible."

"Truce?" Paul said, offering his hand.

Dave sighed. "Deal," he conceded, shaking Paul's hand. "I hope one of you, preferably Paris, is going to level with Orton though. He deserves to know. Maybe he'll stop carrying a torch."

"We'll handle that at the appropriate time," Paul reassured. "Oh, and Dave…just so you know, I love her…and I told her that I did."

The Animal smirked and took a drink of his beer, but didn't say anything.

"What? What's that evil grin for?"

"Nothing…ssh, here they come," Dave shushed as he saw Paris and Amy making their way towards them. "Oh, and Paul…I knew you loved her."

"Fuck you," Paul whispered.

"No, thanks," Dave retorted. "That's what you have Paris for." He ducked swiftly as Paul took a mock swing at him and the bigger man ran to hide behind Amy as she approached.

"Boys, do I have to separate you?" Amy chided playfully.

"Dance with me, Paul," Paris pleaded, pulling on his arm. "It's a slow, sexy one."

Paul relented and setting down his beer, let her drag him to the dance floor, followed by Dave and Amy. It didn't escape his attention that Paris steered him toward an area where Adam had a full view of them. He wasn't sure if it was deliberate or not, as Paris seemed completely oblivious that Adam was even in the bar. As Paris practically dry-humped him on the dance floor, Paul saw that the blond Canadian was fully aware of their presence and was watching the ensuing scene with an icy glare in his gray eyes. This was about to get interesting, The Game told himself, as he shamelessly groped and fondled his new girlfriend right in front her soon-to-be ex. Paul was secretly hoping that Adam had the balls to get in his face and that he was too stupid to know what a big mistake it was. When the song ended, the four friends gathered on the edge of the dance floor and discussed whether they wanted to hang out or leave.

"What do you feel like doing, Paris?" Paul questioned, affirming that, in his eyes, this night was all about her.

But Paris never got a chance to answer his question because she immediately felt a presence that made her hair stand on end. She turned and looked up into the cold eyes of Adam Copeland.

"What are you doing here?" he asked evenly, his irritation apparent as he eyed Paul and Dave warily.

"Adam," she greeted smoothly. "I didn't know you were here."

"I thought you were back at the hotel."

"Waiting for you like a good little girl while you're out doing God knows what with every whore in the bar? I don't think so. Besides, I told you I was gonna hang out with Amy."

"Obviously," he retorted, giving Paul a disgusted look. "If your plan was to hang out with Amy, maybe you can explain why she showed up here two hours before you did?"

"Your point being?" she mocked.

"Where the hell were you?" Adam demanded, his annoyance with her reaching an all-time high.

Paris cleared her throat, trying not to appear nervous or anxious in any way. "Paul and I had some things to talk out," she explained. As if she owed him an explanation.

"Talking?" Adam repeated, his anger mounting. "As in horizontal talking?"

Paul smirked and chuckled loudly, garnering everyone's attention. "Don't worry, Copeland…we weren't horizontal the entire time."

"Fuck you, Levesque," Adam shot back, his body posturing for a challenge.

Paul continued to smirk as he wound his arm around Paris' waist. "I definitely like blonds, but you're just not my type, Copeland."

"Paris, we're leaving," Adam declared, reaching for her arm.

"She's not going anywhere," Paul interjected, tightening his grip on Paris.

"I don't want to leave," Paris put in, determined to stick up for herself.

"It's not a negotiation," Adam went on, getting right in her face. "I'm sick and fucking tired of your drama. You create drama everywhere we go. I think you get off on it."

"Is that why you had to drug her to have sex with you? To cut down on the drama?" Paul taunted. "Is that how you keep your women in line, Copeland?"

Adam's eyes blazed and he looked as if he were about to explode. Paris had never seen him look so angry and she didn't doubt that if they'd been alone, his hands would probably be around her neck by now.

"What goes on between me and Paris is none of anyone's business," Adam replied, his voice low and icy. "This is just more of your drama, isn't it, Paris?"

"You drugged her?" Amy exclaimed with disbelief. Clearly, she wasn't impressed with Adam's tactics.

"Dude, that's pretty fucking low," Dave put in.

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," Adam shot back. "So just stay out of it, Dave. This is all your fault anyway!"

"My fault?" The Animal shouted incredulously.

"You just had to keep coming down to OVW, getting her all wound up, playing the role of lapdog in the whole Evolution circle jerk. All you did was fuel the fire of Paris' drama."

Dave shook his head. "You're out of your fucking mind, you know that?"

"Maybe I am, but I have no problem believing what Synn said she saw in that locker room. No problem at all."

"Keep talking, punk, and you're gonna have a problem," Dave stated menacingly as he stepped forward only to be restrained by Paul's hand on his shoulder.

"What?" Amy questioned bewildered. "What locker room?"

Dave put his hand up, silencing her. "I'll explain later," he told her. "As for you, Copeland, I don't give a shit what you believe and Synn…well, she can go fuck herself."

Adam scratched his head, a cocky Edge smirk on his face. "Didn't that used to be your job?"

"Bastard!" Amy hissed, stepping forward and pushing him as Dave quickly restrained her.

Adam chuckled and mocked that he was afraid of her. "How pathetic."

"The only one here who's pathetic is you!" Amy shouted, grabbing Paris. "Let's get out of here before I puke." Apparently, the thought of Adam drugging Paris had Amy at her breaking point. The red-headed diva looked as if she were about to go off in a big way. And Dave had been worried about Paris losing it!

Paris went to leave, but Adam grabbed her. Just as he seized her arm, there was a swell on the dance floor and she was suddenly separated from Paul, Dave, and Amy.

"Paris!" Paul shouted, reaching for her as a sea of bodies divided them.

"Adam, let me go!" Paris screamed, struggling as he roughly steered her toward the back exit.

They were suddenly cut off by Matt and Jay, who calmly tried to defuse the situation as well as their friend's temper.

"Just let her go, man," Matt urged. "You can talk when you're both sober."

"Fuck that," Adam yelled, yanking his arm away from the older Hardy brother. "She's gonna tell me right now why she was alone with Paul Levesque or she's gonna be making a trip to the emergency room, so help me God…"

"Adam, you need to calm down," Jay ordered.

"Fuck you both!" he snapped, pushing them away. He turned to face Paris, his eyes blazing. He grabbed both of her arms and shook her violently.

"Ow, Adam, you're hurting me!"

"Did you fuck him?"

"Stop it!"

"Did he make you scream?"

"We were just talking," she lied.

"You're lying. That's all that ever comes out of your mouth is lies and drama."

Paris sighed sarcastically. "If I'm such a liar and a drama queen, why don't you just break up with me?"

The Canadian chuckled diabolically. "I would, but you're such a great piece of ass." He let go of one of her arms and ran his finger along her cheek. Paris had to fight the urge to recoil. "Remember how easy it was for me to nail you? You hadn't even been here a week before I had you bent over, owning you on our coffee table. I'll bet your new lover, Paul, would love to hear about that."

Paris shook her head, casting him a baleful glare. "Go find yourself another whore, Adam…I'm over it."

She yanked her arm away and turned to leave, but Adam grabbed her and spun her around, pinning her arms once again.

"Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart. Whores get paid…you're just a fucking slut."

Looking back, Paris probably shouldn't have antagonized him, but she had just enough alcohol in her to be bullet-proof. She hadn't even noticed that Paul was still fighting his way through the crowd.

What happened next was like a big blur. Paris wanted nothing more than to slap Adam right across his smug face, but her arms were locked at her sides, so she did the next best thing. She reared back and spit at him. It took just a second for him to recover and then, Paris was met with a hard back-hand on the right side of her face. She fell backward and someone caught her, who she later realized was Amy. Paul had just gotten free from the throng of people when he saw Adam's hand strike her face and the entire club went red.

"Motherfucker!" Paul shouted, shoving Adam against the wall, but the lanky Canadian quickly recovered and blasted The Game with a hard left on the jaw, his Celtic knot ring opening a nasty cut on Paul's chin.

Both men began trading vicious punches as they both hurled insults and profanity at each other. People milled around trying to get a glimpse of the action as the bouncers struggled to get through the crowd. Adam shoved Paul and speared him, sending them both sprawling on the floor as Paris, Amy, and several other girls screamed and tried to jump out of the way. Finally, the bouncers broke through just as Dave and Chris restrained Paul, and Adam was held back by Matt and Jay. Adam sneered at Paris and spit blood at Paul's feet as the bouncers began escorting all of them out the door. Once outside, Adam disappeared with his friends, minus Chris, who bid them goodnight and caught a cab back to the hotel. Paul disregarded his scraped knuckles, more concerned about the ugly welt popping up on Paris' cheek.

Dave used his cell phone to call a limo from the hotel and once they were inside, Paul sat back and let Amy dab at his hand and chin with a towel she had dipped in the ice bucket while Dave examined Paris' face, making sure her cheek bone wasn't broken. The Animal took another towel and dropped a few ice cubes in it, instructing Paris to hold it against her cheek to keep the swelling down.

"The skin's not broken, but you'll probably have a nasty shiner tomorrow," he told her.

"Nice," Paris said, wincing as the cool towel touched her skin. "I always wanted to go to a wedding with a black eye."

"Be thankful it's not your own wedding," Amy teased.

Paris laughed. The red-headed Sanford native always had a way of making her see the funny side of things. But their humor was short-lived as Paul reached across and seized Paris' arm, practically knocking Amy on the floor.

"Jesus Christ, Paul, what's your problem?" Amy exclaimed, annoyed.

"Has he ever done that to you before?" Paul demanded, his grip almost as painful as Adam's had been earlier. Paris was a little frightened to see him so angry.

"N…no, never," Paris replied.

"Just so you know, if he ever touches you again, especially like that…I'll kill him…understand?"

Paris nodded, her eyes never leaving Paul's. She knew he wouldn't really kill Adam. He'd probably just beat the holy living shit out of him and use his power to make Adam's life a living hell, which Paris had to admit, wouldn't be all that unpleasant to watch. Paul's features softened and he loosened his grip, pulling Paris into his arms, where he held her until they got to the hotel.

The quartet soberly entered the hotel and made their way upstairs to their suite, stopping just long enough at Tammy and Jeff's room to retrieve Paris' luggage. As quiet as they tried to be, Tammy was immediately awake and demanding to know what happened to Paris' cheek and Paul's chin. She was horrified to learn that Adam had gone so far as to hit Paris and she didn't blame the OVW diva for not wanting to be in their room when the toothy Canadian returned. She promised Paul that she would install a dead bolt door on Paris' loft first thing Monday morning and begin looking for new housing for either the blond diva or Adam as soon as possible. She also assured the former World Champion that Paris would be staying at her place Sunday night until said door could be installed. Paul was visibly relieved and they all bid Tammy and Jeff goodnight, each of them shouldering a piece of Paris' Louis Vuitton luggage.

Later that night, Paris stretched languidly, spooning next to Paul as he smoothed her hair and tenderly caressed her bruised cheek. They had just made love well into the night and as Paris drifted off to sleep, she couldn't help but think everything was going to change…hopefully, for the better.

The next day…October 25, 2003…Stephanie McMahon and Shawn Michaels' wedding

The following morning, there was a lot of scurrying around as Paris and Amy got dolled up in their pastel dresses…Paris in lavender and Amy in pale yellow. Amy was just putting the finishing touches on her hair and Paris was making sure the bruise on her cheek was covered when Paul and Dave appeared, all decked out in their pimp suits…Paul in dark gray and Dave in black pin-striped, ready to escort the girls to the limousine, which would take them to the country club where Vince would be walking Stephanie down the aisle to marry The Heartbreak Kid. Paris could hardly wait…she loved weddings.

When they arrived, Paris noticed that Tammy had saved seats for them next to her and Jeff. She didn't think it was such a fabulous idea that they sit in such close proximity to Adam, but Tammy quickly reassured them.

"Adam left this morning," the executive assistant informed them as they sat down. "I told him it was best if he left."

"And what did he say?" Paris asked.

"He regrets hitting you, but not anything he said."

"And you sent him home? He's probably trashing my room as we speak."

"Doubtful. I told him I'd see that he was fired if he tried anything stupid."

Paris tried to relax after receiving Tammy's affirmation, but the thought of Adam alone among her things made her nervous. She didn't know why…it just did.

It seemed to take forever, but all of the guests were finally seated and the ceremony began. Stephanie looked absolutely stunning in her custom-made Vera Wang gown and Shawn, always the consummate professional, tried in vain to hide how dumbstruck he was by her breath-taking beauty.

"Doesn't she look beautiful?" Paris whispered to Paul, nudging him gently. Deep in her heart, she knew he didn't hate Stephanie or Shawn. He knew that they were happy.

"Yeah, she looks OK," Paul admitted. "But she can't hold a candle to you."

Paris blushed as he smiled at her and squeezed her knee. She spent the rest of the ceremony with her hand in the crook of Paul's arm, nestling against him as Stephanie and Shawn tried to muddle through their vows. Between Stephanie's tears of joy and Shawn being slightly tongue-tied, it was a bit of an effort, but somehow they managed to pull it off. Paris herself was feeling a bit misty-eyed by the end of it.

"And by power vested in me, by the state of Texas," the minister said in closing. "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Shawn took Stephanie in his arms and kissed her deeply as the entire room broke into cheers and clapping.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. and Mrs. Michael Hickenbottom," the minister announced. "Or as you may know them, Mr. and Mrs. Shawn Michaels." Obviously, the good reverend was a wrestling fan.

Paris stood next to Paul in the receiving line as the bride and groom made their way through stopping to hug and shake hands with everyone.

"Paris, I'm so glad you came," Stephanie cried, hugging the younger woman while wrestling with her veil. "You, too, Paul." She hugged The Game as he placed a chaste, professional peck on her cheek.

"Steph, you look beautiful," Paris told her to which The Billion Dollar Princess blushed becomingly.

"Yes," Paul agreed. "It was a nice ceremony."

"Thanks for coming, Paul," Shawn broke in. "It meant the world to Steph."

Paris watched with anticipation as The Show Stopper extended his hand in peace to his former best friend. Paul hesitated only slightly before shaking it.

"You're a lucky man," he told Shawn sincerely to which Shawn responded by pulling him into a manly hug. Paul didn't resist and Paris could have sworn that he was both relieved and happy that the hatchet was finally buried. The more she learned about Paul Levesque, the more fascinated she was.

"Seems you're a lucky man, too, by the looks of things," Shawn remarked, giving Paris' shoulders a squeeze before he continued down the receiving line.

"I couldn't agree more," Paul whispered to Paris as he lightly kissed her lips. It was the first time he'd ever kissed her in public, showed any kind of PDA…and it didn't surprise Paris that she kind of liked it.

"You ready to party, Game," she asked, pulling him toward the reception hall where Dave and Amy were waiting with the others.

"I was born ready," The Cerebral Assassin assured her as he escorted her into the hall, his hand firmly on her ass.

It was well on its way to being the happiest weekend of Paris' young life. However, if she'd seen the look on the face of the older man who had stepped out from behind a potted plant where he had been watching her exchange with Paul…she wouldn't have been happy at all. She would have been downright terrified.

He wouldn't allow this to happen…not again. No chance in hell.

**Please read and review…sorry it was so long and I promise to update sooner. Paris isn't out of my blood yet. Later, peeps…**

**---Evilution**


	12. Converting to McMahonism

Chapter 12 – Converting to McMahonism

Disclaimer: I know it's been a really long time, but I'm determined to finish this story if it's the last thing I do. I actually had this chapter finished and ready to post, but it disappeared off of my computer…not sure how that happened. This chapter has a lot more talk and a little less action because I'm setting the stage for events to come. Anyway, I disclaim, and please review. Thanks. 

Shawn and Stephanie's reception was in full swing as Paul stepped out on the veranda for a breath of fresh air. He loosened his tie; his jacket already discarded earlier, and breathed in the night-blooming jasmine. If Paris, Amy, or Tammy drug him onto the dance floor for one more dance, he swore he was going to have a heart attack at the ripe old age of thirty-four. After several moments, he was just beginning to cool off when he sensed a presence next to him.

"Lovely evening, isn't it?" Vince McMahon stated, leaning on the balcony.

"I suppose," Paul replied casually. "It was a lovely ceremony."

Vince breathed deeply and smiled with pride. "That it was. You know, Paul, I've looked forward to Stephanie's wedding day since she was a little girl. I kind of hoped it would be you that I'd be welcoming as my new son-in-law."

Paul chuckled, his nerves on edge. He was always wary when Vince began to wax nostalgic. "Well, Vince, we both know that's not going to happen. Besides, Shawn's a good man. He makes Steph happy, which we both know I couldn't do."

"Maybe if you'd tried a little harder…"

"Vince, I'm not having this conversation…"

Vince held up his hand and shook his head. "I know, I know…forgive for dredging up the past." He paused for what seemed like forever. "Lovely evening, isn't it?" he repeated.

The Game sighed impatiently. "What do you want, Vince?"

Vince laughed. "You know me too well, Paul. I can't pull one over on you, can I?"

Paul didn't answer, but simply stared at the Chairman of the WWE as if urging him to get to the point.

"I see you're awfully friendly with our newest diva," Vince said.

"Paris? Yeah, I guess." If Paul's radar wasn't up before, it definitely was now.

"Have you been intimate with her?" Vince questioned out of the blue.

Paul scoffed once again. "Gee, Vince, I missed the part where my sex life is any of your business."

"You're my top wrestler and she's one of my divas, so that makes it my business. Have you?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"I want it to end."

"Blow me."

"Excuse me?"

"Did I stutter?"

"Did you forget who you're talking to?"

"I wish I could," Paul mumbled in a low voice.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"I thought so," the Chairman replied arrogantly. "Now, back to the issue at hand. I want you to stop seeing Paris."

"Why?" the Cerebral Assassin asked.

Vince chuckled uncomfortably. "A multitude of reasons."

"Well…what are they?" Paul demanded after a long pause.

"Not that I have to explain myself to you," Vince began. "But first and foremost, there's the age difference…you're too old for her."

Paul snorted. "Spare me."

"Then, there's the job," Vince went on. "I need her focused, concentrating on her training and on her debut, which is next week in OVW and only a few short months away in WWE. She has a lot to learn in a very short time. I don't need her or you distracted. Don't forget…you have the Goldberg situation to worry about."

"Goldberg's days are numbered…you know that," Paul reminded his boss.

"Only if you stay focused."

The Game shook his head. "None of those reasons are good enough, Vince."

Vince McMahon wasn't someone who was used to having his authority questioned and even though the man standing before him was his biggest star, he wasn't about to let Paul Levesque dictate his decisions.

"You listen to me," he practically shouted. "You and I may have a friendship due to past circumstances, but make no mistake, I'm still the boss and you're still my employee. I won't allow you to hurt my daughter again."

Paul rolled his eyes. So that's what this was about…Stephanie! The Princess just got married and she was still trying to run his life. Sometimes Paul rued the day he ever met this fucking family.

"You know, Stephanie could care less who I date. In case you missed it, she just married the man of her dreams today. My being with Paris has nothing to do with Stephanie."

"I wasn't referring to Stephanie," Vince stated emphatically.

Paul glanced at him, confused. "What the hell are talking about, Vince? Have you finally completely lost your mind?"

Vince sighed impatiently before dropping a bombshell. "Paris is my daughter."

"What!"

"It's true."

"You slept with Paris' mother?" Paul asked incredulously.

"Certainly not. Danny and Tess Ocean are two of my dearest friends."

"So what gives?"

Vince cleared his throat. "I've had many affairs in my life…"

"Why don't you brag about it?" Paul replied sarcastically.

Vince gave him a dirty look, but continued with his story. "She was my secretary and she had to go and get pregnant."

"I doubt she got that way by herself," The Game commented ruefully.

Vince threw him another baleful look and went on. "As I was saying, Linda was understandably uncomfortable, the proof of my infidelity staring us in the face. So to save my marriage and my business, we gave the baby to our good friends, who were unable to have children of their own."

"So you sacrificed your child for the WWE?" Paul remarked with disbelief.

"I sacrificed my child for everyone's own good, including her own," Vince replied. "Danny and Tess love Paris with everything they have. She's led a very privileged life."

"Without the love of her parents?"

"Danny and Tess are her parents!"

"You're her father!"

"They've given her everything she could ever want, Paul. Danny has more money than I do, for crying out loud!"

"Is that what you think it takes to make a good parent? Money?"

"You know as well as I do that in this day and age, it doesn't hurt."

"What I'd like to know is why in the hell did Danny Ocean send her out here? He had to have known she'd find out the truth."

Vince shrugged. "Maybe he was hoping she would. Then, it would spare him having to tell her she's adopted."

"Weren't you even the least bit curious when he called?"

"I knew why he called."

"Did you also know that Paris nearly died from an eating disorder a few years ago? Did you know that she's been in and out of therapy for most of her life? Did you know that, Vince? Did you know that about her privileged life?"

"No, I didn't know that," The Chairman said, having the good grace to look upset. "But I do know a couple of things. First, she's here now, so it's my responsibility to be a good father and set a good example."

Paul snorted, prompting another glare from his boss.

"Second," Vince went on, ignoring The Game's response. "I may not have raised her, but I do know what's best for her…and I'm pretty sure it's not you."

"I really don't give a shit what you think, Vince," Paul retorted. "My personal life is my business and…"

"I don't give a damn about you or your personal life!" Vince exploded. "As long as it doesn't involve Paris. I'm not joking, Paul. End it or…or…your job depends on it!"

Paul shrugged. "I'll get another job. Jeff Jarrett'll sign me in a heart beat. And don't forget, Vince…I have an open contract."

"Oh yeah?" Vince chortled, calling his bluff. "How about if I tell Paris that you knew all along that she was my daughter? That it was the only reason you were interested in her and how you conspired to keep this life-altering secret from her?"

"You wouldn't dare!" Paul shot back. He was getting the sneaking suspicion that Vince had him by the balls and he knew it.

"Try me," Vince challenged. "Just try and threaten me with Jeff Jarrett one more time, Paul, and see what happens."

He's awfully touchy about Jeff Jarrett, Paul thought to himself. He'd have to keep that piece of information in mind. It might come in useful some day.

"And how exactly do you expect to keep this from her?" Paul questioned, taking a different road.

"I'll tell her when I feel the time is right," Vince stated simply. "So, do we have a deal?"

Paul didn't answer, his jaw twitching with anger and frustration.

Vince took his silence as concession. "I take it we understand each other."

"Go fuck yourself."

"I knew you'd see it my way," Vince said, smiling his incomparable billionaire I-just-got-my-way-again smile.

"I'll tell her in the morning," Paul replied, seething inside. If Vince knew what was good for him, he wouldn't challenge The Game on this matter. There was no way Vince was going to deprive him of spending one last night with Paris.

"Good," Vince stated. "Oh, and Paul, I heard a rumor that Paris had somewhat of a thing with Randy Orton…that is, until you interfered."

"Yeah, so?"

"So…I happen to think Orton is a fine, young man. He's good-looking, talented, virile…"

"Then why don't you screw him if you're so enamored with him?"

"And he's much closer to Paris' age than you are," Vince prattled on, ignoring The Game's sarcastic comment.

"What's your point?"

"Well, naturally, Paris is going to be heart-broken. Patching things up with Randy will be just what she needs. Not right away, of course. As I said, she doesn't need any distractions."

"Wait a minute," Paul began. "I thought you were putting Paris with Evolution when she gets to WWE."

"That's the plan."

Paul stared at Vince incredulously. "So you expect me to work side by side with this woman, who I happen to be crazy about…I have to see her every day and I can't be with her, but I have to push her towards Orton…your idea of a fine, young man, who happens to be a stupid, vain, arrogant prick who'll screw anything that moves? Is that what you expect, Vince? Seriously, is that what you expect?"

Vince smiled. "I expect you to be a professional…nothing more, nothing less."

"I am a goddamn professional!" Paul shouted, barely noticing Dave Batista approaching them.

"Sorry, am I interrupting?" Dave asked, standing next to Paul.

"No, not at all, Dave," Vince said ingratiatingly. "I was just leaving. I trust you'll do the right thing, Paul."

"Prick," Paul muttered under his breath, only audible to Dave.

"Excuse me?" Vince said, touching his hand to his ear in that annoying way of his.

Dave glanced warily at Paul. "Nothing, Vince," he said, covering for The Game. "I was just clearing my throat."

"Vince," Paul interjected. "Do you not have a heart, man? I…I love her."

Vince chuckled. "Come on, Paul…we're strong men. You'll get over it. I did with my wife."

Paul wanted badly to retort that he wasn't Vince, Paris wasn't Linda, and he didn't want to fucking get over it. But he thought it best not to push his luck. One could only push Vince so far before the wrath of Satan was brought down on them. Dejectedly, he hung his head in defeat. Defiant defeat, but defeat nonetheless.

"Amazing," Vince said, putting in one parting shot. "Paul Levesque brought to his knees by a woman." With that, he walked off, practically mimicking that stupid power walk he used on his way to the ring that always made Paul and everyone else think he had a load in his pants.

"Asshole," Paul whispered quietly at his boss' retreating figure, ridiculous-looking as it was.

"What was that all about?" Dave questioned once Vince was out of sight.

Paul didn't answer right away, but continued to brood, almost forgetting The Animal was there.

"Nothing!" he said, sharper than he intended. "Uh…I mean…sorry, I…what do you want?" He hoped he didn't sound rude. After all, Dave was his friend.

"I gotta head out. I wanted to make sure Amy had a ride."

"You're leaving?"

Dave rolled his eyes. "Yeah. I gotta go to St. Louis and hold Orton's dick for him…Shane's orders."

"Orton? What? He no show or something?"

"Yeah, I guess he was off last night, but he didn't show up tonight either. No call, nothing."

"So you get to go fetch him?"

"Yeah."

"Better you than me."

"Sounds like you got problems of your own, man."

Paul snorted. "Ya think?"

"What's goin on?"

"I have to break up with Paris…Vince's orders."

"What! He can't control who you date."

"He can when it comes to his daughter."

"What? Steph's got a knot in her panties about you and Paris?"

Paul shook his head. "Not Stephanie…Paris."

Dave paused, trying to figure out what the hell his teammate was talking about. "I'm confused," he finally conceded."

"Try to keep up," Paul snapped, rolling his eyes. "It seems that about 20 years ago, Vince didn't know how to keep it in his pants."

Dave still looked confused momentarily, but then, it dawned on him. "Paris is Vince's…"

"Ssh! He doesn't want her to know yet."

"So why do you have to break up with her? I thought Vince liked you."

"Oh, he likes me fine when I'm filling arenas and making him money, but apparently, I'm not good enough to date his daughter…again."

"Man, that blows," Dave said, shaking his head and stroking his chin.

"And not only that," Paul went on. "I have to ease her heart break by encouraging her to patch things up with Orton. How's that for a kick in the balls?"

Dave couldn't believe that his leader in Evolution, The Game, Triple H…was letting Vince dictate his personal life. But then again, The Animal found himself empathizing. He had a hard time convincing himself with getting his big break at nearly forty that he wouldn't have done the exact same thing if faced with the same situation.

"You know, I've kept my mouth shut because you know that I hate drama," Dave remarked. "But I happen to think Paris is better off with you. Orton's never been able to stay faithful to any woman as long as I've known him. Now, he's my friend and all, but…so are you, man. I didn't used to think so when all of that stuff with the bet was going down, but…"

"But what's different now?" Paul asked.

"I don't know. I guess I see the truth. I see that you love her. I can see how any guy would. Fuck, this sucks."

Paul sighed. "I know."

Dave had to try one last ditch effort. "You're not really going to let him dictate…"

"I have no choice. He'll make sure she never speaks to me again. I'd rather have her as my friend than nothing at all."

"Shit," Dave muttered before pausing. Deep in his heart, he knew that his friend really didn't have much of a choice. "When are you…?"

"Tomorrow…I don't know, maybe tonight."

"Should I tell Amy?" Dave asked. "I mean, it's up to you. At least, she'll be there for Paris."

"Yeah, maybe that'd be best."

"Are you sure about this?" Dave went on, scratching his head.

"I told you…I have no choice."

There was nothing more that The Animal could say. He simply shook his head and began to walk away. The Game's voice halted him.

"Hey, Dave…"

"Yeah?"

"Tell Orton that Paris still loves him. This weekend never happened."

The Monster of Evolution nodded.

"Oh and Dave…"

"Yeah?"

"Never mind."

"No, tell me."

"If she can keep it to herself, I want you to tell Amy…tell her everything. I mean…I just want her to know that I'm not an asshole, OK?"

Dave nodded. "I will. You coming in?"

"In a minute."

The Animal nodded once again and went inside the reception hall. Paul stared quietly at the stars for several minutes, hating himself for being so weak and vulnerable. He was finally able to tell Paris he loved her and now, this had to happen. How did he always manage to get himself caught up in these messes? Once again, he could help feeling that he rued the day he ever met the McMahon family. How ironic that Paris was one of them, whether she knew it or not.

Once inside, Paul's eyes scanned the room quickly. He saw Vince holding court with Stephanie, Shawn, and the rest of his family, acting as if everything was fine, totally oblivious that he'd just ruined someone's life. How very much like Vince that was. Paul saw Dave heading for the door, being walked out by Amy. Paris was over by the bar, talking to Tammy, Jeff, Trish, and Jericho. Paris looked up as he approached them, her violet eyes lighting up and her face breaking into a smile. His heart contracted despite the smile on his face as he slid his arm around her waist.

"Where've you been?" she asked, giving his waist a squeeze.

"Just getting some air and talking business…no big deal. Did you miss me?"

Paris batted her lashes. "What do you think?"

They had been chatting for several minutes before Amy returned from seeing Dave off. Paul noticed that she didn't look to happy and the last thing he wanted to do was piss off an already angry red-head.

"You wanna dance?" the Queen of Xtreme asked as she approached Paul. "That is, if Paris doesn't mind?"

"No, go ahead," Paris urged as she chatted with Tammy.

Paul was hoping she'd say no, but she didn't, so he followed Amy to the dance floor, an uncomfortable look on his face. Unfortunately, it was a slow dance and he had a feeling that he was going to get an extreme ass-chewing during the next three and half minutes.

"Dave just told me," Amy began, breaking the ice.

"Yeah, I told him to."

"What the hell is it about you and Vince's daughters?"

"Please keep your voice down," Paul hissed, tightening his grip on her waist.

"So you're really gonna dump her?" Amy went on, more quietly.

"I have no choice in the matter."

"But look how happy she is!"

"Tell me something I don't know!"

"So you're just gonna walk away? Just like that? Come on, Paul…I know goddamn well you don't have ice water in your veins and so does Paris. She'll never buy it."

"Then, I'll just have to be convincing, won't I?"

"If you hurt her again, Paul…"

"And how exactly do I do this without hurting her, Amy? Tell me that!"

"Well…how are you gonna feel if she goes and does something stupid?"

Paul glanced at the red-head, alarmed. "Like what? You mean, like hurt herself?"

Amy rolled her eyes. "Please…over you?"

Paul didn't respond, but gave her a dirty look.

"Sorry…I didn't mean it like that…"

"I get your point. What do you mean by 'something stupid'?"

"Like what if she goes running back to Adam?" Amy prompted.

"That's not gonna happen."

"How can you be so sure?"

Paul smirked evilly. "Because I'll kill him first."

Amy smirked back. "Well, all righty then."

"Besides, you're her friend," Paul went on. "It's up to you to steer her away from undesirable companions."

Amy snorted mirthlessly. "Like she listened to me when it came to you."

"Oh, funny. Look, Amy…not that I care what anyone thinks, but…"

"But what?"

"For some bizarre reason, I happen to value your opinion as opposed to most of the other women in our business…"

"Your point?"

"My point is that I…I…"

"Go on…"

"I love her, OK? I guess I just wanted you to know that, to know that I'm not an…an…"

"Ass clown?"

"Something like that, Jericho."

Amy rolled her eyes heavenward. "If you love her, which by the way, Dave and I already know that you do…why…?"

"I don't think I have to answer that," Paul explained. "Vince can be ruthless when he wants something…and I'm not willing to do that to Paris…or to myself."

"But love is supposed to conquer all."

Paul chuckled. "Does it?"

"I believe it does."

"Then there's hope for Paris and Orton after all."

"I'm not talking about Orton!" Amy exclaimed.

"I know what you're talking about and maybe you should worry more about your own relationship, Amy. It hasn't exactly been a rose garden for you and Dave lately, has it?" He didn't mean to sound like a dick, but that was precisely how it came out.

"That's none of your business," the red-head stated, irritated.

"Then let me handle this how I have to. All I'm asking of you is to try and understand and to be there for Paris."

Amy nodded as the dance ended. There was really nothing further that needed to be said and they quietly joined Paris, Tammy, Jeff, and the others.

For the rest of the evening, Paul was the picture of casual control. He was focused on Paris, getting her drinks, making sure she was having a good time. He was surprised when he suggested that they leave rather early that she acquiesced. He made the rounds bidding everyone goodnight and trying to track down Amy so that he could fulfill his promise to Dave that he'd get her safely back to the hotel. However, Amy wasn't quite ready to call it a night, so he left her in Tammy and Jeff's capable hands as he and Paris headed back to the hotel.

When they got back to their room, Paul knew that he shouldn't postpone the inevitable, but it only took the sight of Paris coming out of the bathroom to make him change his mind. He was secretly kicking himself for being selfish, for wanting to spend one more night with her, to make love to her one last time, before he broke her heart. It would have been the right thing to do to tell her right away, but no one ever accused Paul Levesque of doing the right thing. And this was no exception.

Hours later, he lay in bed, wide awake. They had made love into the wee hours of the morning and now, Paris was curled up next to him, sound asleep, but he hadn't slept a wink…his guilt having waged an all-night steel cage match of death with his conscience. Taking a deep breath, he flung the cover back and swung his legs out of bed. Hopefully, he could be showered and packed before she woke.

Paris woke to the sound of movement in the room. She blinked back the faint light coming through the window and glanced at the clock. It was barely past five in the morning, but Paul was awake, showered, and dressed. She stretched and turned on her side to look at him as he busied himself with small, menial tasks.

"You're up early," she commented.

"Yeah," he replied not meeting her eyes.

"And you're dressed. It's only like five am."

"I know. I couldn't sleep."

"Really?" she teased as she stretched languidly giving him a full view of her naked body. "I'd think you would have been exhausted."

Paul was momentarily distracted by the sight in front of him, but he shook himself back to reality and sat down on the bed, awkwardly pulling the sheet up over her.

"Look, Paris…we need to talk."

Paris smiled anxiously. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

"Look," Paul began. "You know I care about you…but…"

"But?" Paris laughed nervously. "You know when you say 'but' it erases everything that came before it."

Paul also let out a nervous laugh. "I'm worried that…that…"

"What is it, baby?" Paris urged.

"That we rushed into things this weekend."

"Are you serious?" she asked, trying to hide her shock.

"It's just…I just don't have time for this right now…and neither do you. You're debuting at WrestleMania…you need to be focusing on that. And I need to focus on Goldberg and Evolution."

"Well, that's just ridiculous. I have more room in my life for other things besides the WWE."

"I don't," Paul stated matter-of-factly.

"So, I'll just wait," Paris suggested. "I'll wait for you until everything calms down and…"

"No!"

"No?"

"Don't you see, Paris? Nothing is more important to me than my career. I can't ever care about anyone or anything as much as I do about the WWE. I live and I breathe this business."

Paris stared thoughtfully at him for a moment. She knew that Paul was a company man through and through, but everyone had room in their life for love, even Paul Levesque.

"I can accept that," she said agreeably.

"NO!" Paul shouted, startling her. "You can't…and you shouldn't have to. You deserve better. You deserve to be number one in someone's life…and that someone isn't me. You need someone who's going to worship the ground you walk on." Someone like me, he thought. "Someone like Orton," he forced himself to say. It killed him to say it because he knew that Orton only worshipped himself. He'd eventually get bored with Paris and break her heart.

"I can't be with Randy…and I don't know if I want to be anymore. Paul, you said you loved me…and I believed you."

Paul sighed loudly. No one ever said this was going to be easy. Apparently, being nice wasn't working with Paris, so he was going to have to take the low road and be a dick.

"Paris, guys will say anything if they're horny enough. Besides, I wanted to see if it'd be as easy as it was the first time."

Paris inhaled sharply, trying desperately not to show how badly his comment hurt her. Since she left the WWE, she was getting better and better at turning her emotions off like a switch.

"I see," she replied in an icy voice. "Well, I certainly hope I didn't disappoint you."

Paul smirked, his stomach turning as he tried to keep up his phony façade. It wasn't really that difficult. Everyone thought he was an asshole, so why not live up to it?

"You never disappoint me, Paris," he stated smoothly. "Except maybe in how gullible you are. You really should be more careful. Someone might take advantage of you." He gently ran a finger along her cheek to emphasize his point.

"Fuck you!" Paris snapped, slapping his hand away.

The Game chuckled. "Come on, Paris…don't be melodramatic. We had a fun weekend. You go back to your life and I'll go back to mine. Look at the bright side of this…"

"What bright side?"

"You got rid of Adam…and you still have a chance with Orton. He really does love you, you know." Goddamn motherfucker…he swore, hating himself.

Paris snorted as two tears rolled down her cheeks. "What kind of a chance can I possibly have with Randy after this weekend? It's not like no one saw us together at the wedding!"

"Let me take care of that. As far as anyone knows or cares, we're just friends and I stepped in as your date because you and Adam split up."

"No! I don't want you to take care of anything for me! Ever again!"

"Suit yourself, but as far as Randy goes, I was just being your friend this weekend…that's my story and I'm sticking to it. You really do owe it to him to give him another chance."

Paris laughed sarcastically. "You're unbelievable, you know that? First, you tell me that you love me and now, you're pushing me at Randy!"

"Look, Paris, I don't love you, OK? I only said that to…"

"I know…to get me in bed!"

"See…I'm no good for you! What kind of a guy would do something like that? An asshole, that's who. You have to let go because if you don't, I'll just keep breaking your heart again and again…it's what I do."

"I don't believe you! You said you loved me and you meant it!"

"Paris, this isn't going to work, OK? It can't work! I can't be with you!"

"Why not?"

"Because…I just can't. I don't have any room in my life for you. You need to just kiss and make up with Orton, OK? He loves you, he's what you really want."

"What if he's not what I need?"

"Then, that's your decision, but I'm not what you need either!"

"What if I said I still don't believe you?" Paris shot back, crying.

"Then, I'd say you're a stupid little girl who needs to grow up…and learn how to close her legs."

The shock of his words hit her like an icy fist and before she knew what she was doing, Paris reared back and slapped him hard across the face.

"Get out!" she screamed, pulling the sheet closer around her and trying to kick him off the bed.

Paul gingerly touched his cheek, which was still stinging from her slap. He deserved much worse. He couldn't even look her in the eye.

"Paris, I…"

"Just go, Paul."

"Paris, please…" He reached to touch her face one last time, but she recoiled.

"No! Don't touch me! Just leave!"

He stared at her, not knowing what else to say.

"I mean it…get out!"

Paul sighed. "Fine…if you need anything…"

"I won't."

There was really nothing more he could say. Paul shook his head sadly before hoisting his bags and closing the door behind him…closing the door on the woman he loved. He could feel her eyes boring into him as he left and after the door closed, he could hear the heart-wrenching sobs. It took all he had to not go back and tell her everything, but self-preservation won out. Perhaps he was being selfish, but it had taken him so many long years to gain Vince's respect, especially after the whole Kliq debacle. How he and Shawn had suffered after that one. Both of them knew now not to cross the boss, but crossing him and hating him were two different things. And right now, Paul Levesque hated Vince McMahon with every fiber of his being…he hated him from his phony smile all the way down to his black heart. Someday, Vince would pay for his treachery. Someday.

Later that same day, in St. Louis, Missouri:

Dave Batista swore as he pulled up in front of Randy Orton's house, only to see the front door standing open and the lawn littered with beer cans and trash. Obviously, it had been one hell of a party. The Animal locked his vehicle and walked warily up the walk, kicking some garbage idly out of his way. Pushing the door open quietly, he was met with a complete and utter mess before him. The entire front room was trashed and the house reeked of he didn't know what, but it wasn't pleasant. Randy was passed out on the couch, music playing loudly, to which he was oblivious, and a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the coffee table. Dave's brow furrowed. It wasn't like Randy to hit the hard stuff. He usually stuck to beer. Approaching his incapacitated teammate, Dave removed his Armani shades and turned the blaring music off. With a look of disgust, he not-so- gently nudged The Legend Killer with his foot.

"Orton, wake up!" he said, trying not to shout, but not being exactly quiet either.

Randy groaned and mumbled something incoherently.

"Orton!" Dave barked once again.

This time, Randy looked up and squinted as his teammate opened the drapes, allowing very bright sunlight to stream in.

"Dave? Dude, what are you doing here?"

"You missed work."

Randy sighed. Was that it? "So?" he grumbled, rolling over.

"So…you just blow off work to lay around and get wasted?"

"Blow me."

"Look, Shane sent me…"

"Like I give a flying shit what Shane thinks."

The DC native snorted. Where was this attitude coming from? "Well, he is your boss."

"Like I care," Randy mumbled.

"Well, you better care because if you don't show up for RAW tomorrow night, he says you're fired." Dave paused and sniffed. "What in the hell is that smell?"

"I don't smell anything," Randy retorted as he yawned loudly and stretched.

"It smells like…I don't know…dead ass or something like that."

Randy continued to stretch. "Might be the garbage."

Dave wandered into the kitchen, the smell growing somewhat stronger as he progressed. The kitchen was as badly trashed as the living room, littered with beer bottles, food, and empty liquor bottles.

"Jesus Christ, how much did you drink?" Dave questioned, holding up an empty Johnny Walker Black bottle.

Randy closed his eyes once again. "I was entertaining."

"Who? Guns 'n' Roses?"

"I don't know who they were."

"I'm sure you were the most popular drunk at the bar," Dave replied sarcastically.

"Why don't you go shower and I'll clean this place up? We got a flight at 7:15 in the morning…"

"I'm not going."

Dave sighed with exasperation. "Did you hear what I said? Shane's gonna fire you!"

"Let him!" Randy shouted, jumping off the couch with as much grace as he could muster, considering he was hung over. "Maybe if I'm not around the WWE, then I don't have to think about her 24/7…think about her with him and every other guy in the world!"

"I take it we're talking about Paris."

"Don't say her name!"

Dave shook his head. "What in the hell is wrong with you?"

Randy snorted. "You think I don't know she was at the wedding…and that Paul was there!"

"So? A lot of people were there. What…you think Paris and Paul can't be at the same social gathering without ripping each clothes off or something?" Fuck, Dave thought, that's exactly what they did! "She happened to show up with Copeland and the only time she was around Paul was when Amy and I were there, too." Dave secretly prayed God wouldn't strike him dead for lying to his best friend.

"Copeland, huh?" Randy snapped. "There's another mental picture I cherish so much!"

"Well, if that's the case, you should cherish the fact that she dumped him."

"What?"

"Yeah, but only after he back-handed her at the club."

Randy blinked. All he could see was red at the thought of someone hitting Paris.

"Did you take him out?" The Legend Killer questioned, swallowing hard.

"Paul and I took care of it," Dave assured him.

"So nothing happened between her and Paul?"

"I don't see how it could have," Dave went on, lying through his teeth. "I mean, come on, Randy…she's still crazy about you. Don't tell me you don't feel the same?"

Randy thought for a moment and then, shook his head. "It doesn't fucking matter anyway."

Dave snorted with disgust. "Yeah, well, maybe if you'd grow some balls…"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"You don't know anything about it!" Randy exploded. "You don't know what it did to me to know that she…that she…"

"That she fucked Paul?"

"Shut up!" Randy screamed, shoving his friend against the wall.

Dave quickly recovered and just continued to relentlessly badger the young Evolutionary.

"And that makes her the biggest whore in the world, right?"

"Shut up! Don't talk about her like that!"

"Don't talk about her like that?" Dave mocked. "How did you put it, Orton? That she spread her legs to become a diva?! That makes her a whore, right?"

Randy had heard enough. Unfortunately, he was too hung over or perhaps, still too drunk to realize that Dave was simply baiting him to get him to admit his true feelings. However, The Animal's intentions were lost on Randy. Rearing back, he swung at The Monster of Evolution, but stumbled and nearly fell into him. Dave knew that if he hit Randy in the state he was in, it would hurt him badly, so he simply slammed him into the wall, knocking a few pictures to the floor in the process.

"Fuck you!" Randy shouted, right in Dave's face.

"Am I lying?" The Animal raged back at him. "That is what you said to her, isn't it? So you're gonna turn into a drunken pig and lose your job over this whore…am I correct?"

"She's not a whore!"

"But you said she was!"

Randy breathed deeply, his bravado fading. "I didn't mean it…I just don't know if I can forget…

Dave grabbed the front of his shirt and slammed him harshly into the wall once again. "Then, you have two choices, Orton, and you better decide pretty quickly because I'm not the only one who's losing patience over this ongoing drama! You can either be a man and go get her, or be a man and forget her! It's your choice, man."

"I…I don't want to forget her…"

"Then, you're gonna have to swallow your pride and learn how to trust her again…somehow." Silently, Dave told himself that he wasn't sure he'd be able to follow his own advice, knowing what he knew.

Randy sighed as Dave loosened his grip. "What's the point? She hates me anyway."

"She doesn't hate you," Dave commented, letting go of his teammate. "She hates herself."

"But I've tried to call her…she won't talk to me."

"Because Copeland was there, but now that he's out of the picture…"

"I don't know, man."

"Just call her," Dave urged. "What have you got to lose?"

"Just my pride and my dignity."

"Like I said, what have you got to lose?"

Randy was silent for several moments, knowing that Dave was right. But first things first, he owed his friend an apology.

"Hey, man, I'm sorry…I didn't mean to hit you…"

Dave smirked. "I know…you're not that stupid."

"Meaning what?" Randy grinned.

"I'd annihilate you and you know it."

"Oh yeah? Well…"

Dave chuckled. "Before you come up with a witty retort, why don't you go shower? You smell as bad as this house. Besides, as far as the witty retort goes, I don't have all day."

"Fuck you," Randy shot back, except jokingly this time. Dave didn't respond, but as Randy jogged up the stairs, he turned back to his friend. "You're buying lunch, right?"

"Whatever," Dave muttered as Randy grinned and disappeared upstairs.

While his teammate took the longest shower Dave had ever witnessed, The Animal managed to get the house somewhat organized. At least, it was better than the disarray he had walked in on. It only took him about an hour to get the living room and kitchen cleaned, all of the garbage picked up and taken out, and all of the windows opened to air the place out. Just as Dave was returning from taking the last load of garbage to the alley, Randy came downstairs, freshly showered, shaved, and dressed.

"Wow, it looks great down here. You're gonna make someone a good wife someday."

"Yeah, well, compared to the filth hole it was when I showed up…but that smell…" Dave sniffed, a look of disgust on his face that would have made William Regal proud. "I opened all of the windows and drug out every air freshener and candle you own and it still reeks in here."

Randy looked embarrassed. "Yeah, about that…I think I found the source."

Dave rolled his eyes and followed The Legend Killer up to his bedroom. The bed was stripped and there was a pile of dirty bedding in the hallway. There was also a big stain on the bed.

Dave snorted. "What'd you do? Piss yourself?"

"No, I think it's puke."

"Is it yours?"

Randy shrugged. "I don't remember. I'm sure it is."

Dave shook his head. "We're gonna have to get rid of that mattress. We'll just take it to the dumpster and you can get a new one after lunch. Go start the laundry and I'll finish up downstairs."

Randy nodded and took the dirty sheets down to the washing machine in the basement while Dave carried the mattress out to the dumpster in the alley. After tidying up a few more things, the guys went down to Subway where they grabbed some lunch and had a more in depth discussion about Paris, her situation with Adam, and what Randy planned on saying to her. Later in the afternoon, they were shopping for a new mattress when Dave's cell phone rang. He left Randy with the salesman…Howard, he thought the guy's name was, and stepped aside to take his call.

"Hello?"

"Hey." It was Amy.

"Hey, where are you?"

"I just got to the show. You find Orton?"

"Yeah, we're buying a mattress."

"I had no idea you two were so close," Amy quipped.

"You're funny. He puked in his bed. At least, he thinks he did it."

"Gross."

"Yeah, I'll fill you in later."

"Ooh, I can hardly wait…a story about Orton puking."

Dave chuckled, but quickly sobered. "How's Paris?"

"Heartbroken. Did you expect anything less?"

"No, not really. I think I've got Orton convinced to call her. If we can just make sure no one tells him how PDA her and Paul were this weekend…"

"It wasn't overly PDA. He kissed her once, but it was chaste, to say the least. I think everyone was focused on Steph and Shawn."

"Yeah, everyone except Vince," Dave replied with chagrin. "I'm sure Copeland will have something to say about it."

"Well, he wasn't actually there, was he? Besides, he hit her, Dave! That discredits anything he has to say."

"Yeah, I suppose. But I'm sure we'll get stuck with damage control."

"I can handle that."

"So can I, but I don't like lying," Dave declared.

"Neither do I, but if Paris truly is Vince's daughter, then it's best if she's not with Paul. You didn't see what a mess Stephanie was after they broke up…I did."

"Yeah, but Steph's fine now. She was in love with HBK since she was like a teenager. I think if Paris and Paul love each other, they should be together."

"Dave, we both know Paul's a company man. He's always going to pick the company first…"

"He might surprise you, Ames."

"Maybe, but…"

"Hey, not to change the subject or anything, but something's been bothering me about Adam and the whole slapping Paris thing."

"What's that?"

"You've known Adam for a while…have you ever known him to act like that? I mean, violent."

"No, never. Matt was completely stunned."

Dave's jaw twitched. "You've talked to Matt about it?"

Amy paused. "Well, just a while ago. Casually, you know. Besides, I was mostly talking to that girl he's dating…she's Paris' friend…"

"Amanda," Dave prompted.

"Yeah, that's the one. Matt was just there with her."

"I'm sure he was."

"What are you getting at?" the red-head asked, sounding annoyed. "What…I can't even talk to Matt without you getting jealous? I mean, come on…I've known him since…since…well, forever."

"I'm not jealous," Dave replied. "It's just for someone who treated you as shitty as he did, you sure seem to be talking to him a lot lately. Might I remind you, he does have another girlfriend now."

"Dave, I don't have time for this. I called because I care about you and wanted to know how you are, OK?"

"I'm fine, OK. Orton's fine, you're fine…we're all fine. I was just concerned about Paris."

"You and everyone else," Amy grumbled.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just that that's all you talk about lately…Paris. I'm starting to think you're as hot for her as Randy and Paul are."

"Are you serious?" Dave asked incredulously. Was he that transparent?

"Yeah, I'm serious."

"Amy, I'm not even gonna dignify that with a response."

"You know, you never did explain that locker room comment Adam made at the club…you know, the one about Synn."

"I don't have time for this right now. I'll talk to you when I get to RAW, OK?"

"Fine, whatever."

She started to say goodbye, but he had already hung up on her, which he was sure would piss her off even more. Oh well. It wasn't like they were madly in love or anything. Far from it as a matter of fact. Dave tried to deny that his feelings of hostility with Amy had gotten worse since his tryst with Paris, but he couldn't. They had been on a slippery slope before it even happened, and now, it seemed as if there was nothing left to hold onto. He had to just step back and stay out of this drama. Whatever feelings he may have had for Paris…whether it was just innocently caring about her or blinding lust…he had to stay out of it. The ball was in Randy's court now and even if it wasn't, there were Paul's feelings to consider now, too. Not only would his past actions hurt Randy, they'd probably hurt Paul as well.

"You ready?" Randy asked, slapping on the shoulder and jolting him out of his brooding.

"Yeah, you done?"

"Yeah, they're gonna deliver it when they close, so I need to get back to the house. We can hang out if you want."

"Sure, man," Dave replied distracted. "Sounds like fun."

"Hey, are you OK?" Randy asked after they had gotten in the car and were on the interstate. "Who was that on the phone?"

"I'm fine…it was just Amy." Dave's look prompted Randy to question further. It wasn't as if he was totally ignorant to the fact that all wasn't rosy between The Animal and The Queen of Xtreme.

"Trouble in paradise?" the St. Louis native probed.

"No more than usual."

"So what's going on with you two?"

"I don't know," Dave shrugged his huge shoulders. "It's just been different ever since that weekend I planned. You know…the one where I had to wrestle in OVW and I found out that Paris was seeing Copeland."

"Yeah, you left OVW Wednesday night and met Amy in New Hampshire. You never did tell any of us what happened."

"That's because nothing happened. No romance, no sex…nothing. In fact, I got the impression that she was bored the whole time. She kept making little comments about Matt and it really irritated me."

Randy sighed. "You know, man…I owe you an apology."

Dave waved his hand. "You already apologized for your feeble attempt to kick my ass."

"No…I mean, this whole drama with me and Paris…I sometimes forget that you and Amy got together at the same time that Paris and I did and our issues have just kind of overshadowed what's going on with you two."

"Well, you know I'm not big on sharing stuff like that anyway." Dave swallowed hard. He couldn't very well tell Randy that things between him and Amy had been bad ever since the trip to New Hampshire, but had gotten progressively worse after he almost boned Paris in the OVW locker room a few days before the wedding. In fact, it hadn't even been a week ago that it happened and Dave could still smell her perfume…he could still feel her skin…God, stop it! He had to stop thinking about her. If things went as planned, she'd end up with Randy, even though Dave knew she belonged with Paul. It didn't stop him from being jealous of both of them.

"Hey, I'm fine, OK?" Dave went on. "Ames, she's a great girl…she just may not be the one for me, that's all."

"But you've liked her for a while…even back during the bet…"

"Yeah, she's just really different than what she portrays."

"You think she's still hung up on Hardy?" Randy questioned.

"That's exactly what I think."

"Hey, I'm sorry, man."

"Don't be, Orton. Things have a way of working themselves out."

Randy smiled as he glanced at his cell phone, thinking of the things he was going to say to Paris when he called her.

Dave didn't know it at the time when he said everything would work out, but truer words had never been spoken.

**Sorry for all the jibber jabber, but as I said, it's laying a foundation. Please read and review. Thanks.**


	13. Ortonistic Point of View

Chapter 13 – Ortonistic Point of View

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Thanks for bearing with me. Someday, somehow…this story will be finished. Lots of love…

Paris returned from San Antonio late Sunday afternoon, still in a daze from the events of the weekend. The house was uncharacteristically quiet, Jeff having decided to stay at Tammy's and Adam nowhere to be found. Paris flopped on the couch, not quite sure if she would ever get up again. It had all been such an emotional roller coaster. As if seeing Paul again wasn't bad enough, he went out of his way to gain her trust and tell her that he loved her…only to break her heart once again. No matter how weak she was, no matter how irresistible he was, Paris vowed then and there that no one…least of all, Paul Levesque…would ever hurt her again. Sighing, she trudged upstairs, dragging her luggage behind her…the suitcases almost reminiscent of figurative emotional baggage she was carrying. At this point, there was only one thing left to do…and that was throwing herself into her career. It was the only thing she could count on.

Jeff was home when Paris awoke the next morning and although she could hear Adam in the kitchen, he failed to make an appearance while she was there. She made some quick plans to meet Jeff later to rehearse their scenes for her debut next week before heading to Trax. It felt good to take out some frustrations in the ring and in the weight room and before Paris realized what was happening, Fit was calling it a day. The whole day had flown by and she had worked so hard that she never once thought about Paul, Adam, or any other drama in her life.

When she arrived at home, some maintenance men were just leaving after installing a heavy oak door with a dead-bolt lock at the bottom of the stairs. Finally, she had a door on the loft and some much-needed privacy. Adam was there, but said nothing. He simply threw a dark look at the offending door and an even blacker look at Paris before storming into his own room and slamming the door. Jeff and Miz retreated to the back yard to toss a football around, making sure that there were no fireworks between Adam and Paris before returning to the inner sanctum of the house.

Once upstairs in her own private loft with the door locked, Paris ran herself a hot bubble bath and lit some candles before sinking into the tub for a long, luxurious soak. Imagine her annoyance when her cell phone rang just as she was beginning to relax and work some of the soreness out of her muscles. Why didn't I turn the stupid thing off? Paris thought to herself as she absently fumbled for the phone, which was lying on the floor next to the tub. Her heart jumped into her throat when she glanced at the caller ID and saw the words "Randy Orton" in green neon.

"Hello?" Paris greeted, hoping she hadn't waited too long to answer, but at the same time, trying not to sound desperate.

There was no answer…just silence. But she could still hear breathing.

"Hello?" she urged once again.

"Umm…Paris? Hey, it's Randy."

"Yeah, I know," she replied.

"How are you? I mean, how're you doing?"

"I'm good…how bout you?"

"I'm OK, I guess. Just working and traveling, issues, drama…you know how it goes."

Did she ever!

"Dave said he saw you at the wedding," Randy went on. "He said you looked good."

Paris' heart continued to hammer. What else had Dave told him?

"What else did he say?" Paris asked, silently wishing that she didn't sound as guilty or suspicious as she felt.

"Nothing, really. He said that you and Paul made your peace and that you split up with Adam."

"Yeah, we broke up," Paris informed him.

"So what happened?" Randy asked, hoping his voice didn't belie the glee he was feeling upon confirmation that Paris was no longer with the arrogant Canadian.

"It was a culmination of a lot of things," the OVW diva went on. "He's just kind of an asshole, that's all."

Randy snorted. "Kind of?"

"Well, you know…" God, this was awkward conversation! "He hit me," she blurted out before realizing she had done so.

"Excuse me?"

"Adam…he hit me…at the bar…"

"I know."

"You know?"

"Yeah, Dave told me. He said that he and Paul took care of it. I'm just sorry I wasn't there."

Paris shrugged even though no one could see her. "I guess I kind of deserved it…maybe…I don't know…"

"Do you really believe that?" Randy retorted.

Paris laughed caustically. The sound shocked him.

"Don't tell me you've never wanted to hit me, Randy," Paris stated.

"Never…"

"No? Not even in that hotel room in Peoria? Never once?"

Paris heard him inhale sharply. Peoria, Illinois…that fateful night. How could either one of them ever forget?

Randy sighed. "OK, maybe for a split second, but that doesn't mean I'd ever do it. My dad would whip my ass if I ever laid a hand on a lady…especially you…not to mention, Paul, Dave, Jericho, probably Jeff and Cena for all I know, Shawn, Steve, and then, we haven't even discussed your dad yet, even though he hates me for no reason. Then, there's Trish and Amy…I don't even want to think about the pain and agony those two would put me through! But that's all beside the point. If Copeland ever touches you like that again, I'm only a phone call away…"

"Randy, calm down, OK? I didn't say it to upset you…"

"Goddamnit!" he exploded. "Would you just listen for five seconds? I'm trying to tell you how I feel, so just shut up, OK? Can you do that…please?"

Paris was shocked into silence as Randy took several deep breaths, struggling to regain his composure. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and absently ran a hand through his hair.

"Look, Paris," he began, his voice softer and calmer. "I'm sorry that I let it get this far. I gave up too easily when you wouldn't talk to me. I don't care about the past. I don't care about Peoria or anything to do with you and Paul. It happened and I can't change that. I know that I'm partially to blame…I'm square with that, OK? I made an ass out of myself with that bet, and then I pushed you away. I rejected you under the guise of trying to protect you when in reality, I was only trying to protect myself, to keep you from finding out what I had done. You did the only logical thing a rejected woman could do…you slept with another guy. And you got, pardon the expression, broken in to the world of complicated relationships in the worst possible way. I was a stupid asshole and I got what I deserved. You were dumb and naive and you got what you deserved. Don't you think we've both suffered and paid the price enough? I mean, come on…I'm miserable without you and between Paul and Adam, I'd think you've had enough mind games and manipulation to last a lifetime. Paris, the truth of the matter is that I want to be with you…I don't care what it costs or what it takes. I want this to stop. I want you to forgive me and to forgive yourself, because I have. It never should have went this far. We should be together and happy. What happened between us was a bump in the road that we should have been able to overcome…"

"It was more than a bump," Paris interrupted.

"OK, fine! It was a big fucking pothole then! We still should have been able to get over it. We loved each other enough…"

"Did we?"

"Oh, so now you don't love me anymore, is that it? God, I never should have listened to Dave and Amy and their bullshit…"

"Randy, of course, I love you…I always have."

Paris wasn't sure that she should have told him that, especially this early in what appeared to be an attempt at reconciliation. But it was the only way, the only hope she had of moving on and getting over Paul. Maybe, just maybe, she needed to get over Paul to find her way back to Randy.

"You do?" Randy asked with trepidation.

Paris sighed. "Of course, I do. It's just…I don't know…everything is so complicated anymore."

"It doesn't have to be," the Legend Killer replied.

"But it is."

"Yeah, but I love you…that's never changed."

Paris leaned back in the tub, silent tears trickling down her cheeks. She'd waited so long to hear those words…to hear them without any anger or resentment in his voice. So why did she still feel so empty? Was it too late?

"Are you still there?" Randy asked, hopefully.

"Yeah, I'm still here."

"So…do you think we can try again?" he went on, still hopeful.

After a long pause, Paris finally spoke.

"I don't know, Randy." She could almost hear the disappointment emanating through the phone, even though he said nothing. "I mean, I suppose all we can do is try. I'm willing if you are, but there's got to be conditions…and consequences."

"I agree."

"I want to take this slow. I…I don't want to see you…I mean, not right away anyway. I want to build a relationship…if it has to be by phone or email, so be it. That's the best way that we can be open and honest without having to see any disappointment or distrust on the other's face. We have to learn how to trust each other, or there's no hope."

"Agreed," Randy consented, even though he wasn't altogether crazy about not seeing her, touching her, being with her. He also wasn't overly thrilled that she had taken complete control of the situation, forcing him to abide by her rules and ultimatums. But, in the overall picture, he wanted nothing more than to have her back and if it meant sacrificing just a little bit, he'd find a way to endure. After all, she was the one who had been hurt the most and if all else failed, he was still Randy Orton. It wasn't as if Paris was the only mermaid in the sea…she just happened to be the only mermaid he wanted at the moment.

"So…what are we then?" Randy continued, trying to ignore the migraine that was threatening to start. He hadn't anticipated this being so difficult. He knew it wasn't going to be easy, but he never expected this. "Are we going to see other people…what? I guess…I don't understand." He tried to rub the lines out of his forehead as his brow furrowed with confusion.

"We're friends," Paris responded noncommittally. "That's all I can give right now. And as for seeing other people, you can do what you want, Randy. I'm not seeing anyone and after what I went through with Adam…" And with Paul, she thought, trailing off. "I don't plan on seeing anyone new for a long time, but I'm still gonna go out with my friends." She hoped that by saying 'anyone new,' Randy would realize that she wasn't including him in that edict.

Randy chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully, realizing that she wasn't talking about him. Still, she was making this tough…but, it was worth it. At least, he hoped it was worth it. He couldn't shake the feeling that he still had doubts…not just about Paris, but about himself. He wasn't kidding himself to think that Paris didn't have them as well.

"I'm not seeing anyone either," the St. Louis native declared. "And I'm going to prove to you how important this is to me."

Paris smiled. "It's important to me, too, Randy."

"On that note, I think that I'll let you go now," he told her. "We've had a pretty intense conversation and I'm a little tired. Besides, your bath water is probably cold by now."

"How did you know I was taking a bath?" she laughed.

"I heard the water splashing every now and then," he teased. "I was trying not to get distracted."

"You're still a very bad boy, you know that?"

"Who? Me?"

Paris laughed once again, a little more lightly than she had in a long time. "Goodnight, Randall."

"I'll call you soon, OK? I want to give you time to digest everything."

"How about if I call you?" she suggested. "You shouldn't have to be the one who does all of the reaching out."

Randy nodded. "I'll look forward to hearing from you."

"Bye."

"I love you."

Paris paused, her stomach fluttering slightly, more out of nerves than excitement. "Me, too," she added, feeling as if she had to say something.

Randy disconnected the call seconds before Paris did, but she didn't get out of the tub immediately. She sat numbly in the chilled water with its rapidly disintegrating bubbles, trying to make sense of the phone call. What did he really want? She couldn't help feel that whatever he called looking for, she hadn't fulfilled. Moreover, what did she really want? That was the twenty thousand dollar question and one that she would eventually have to answer.

Thursday morning…

As much as Randy's unexpected phone call Monday night had unnerved Paris, she had to admit that it caused her to feel more focused than she had in long time. She was no longer worrying about the repercussions from San Antonio or the various complicated relationships in her life. Her light at the end of the tunnel was her professional debut on November 5…next Wednesday. Trying to not get nervous was a dauntless task to say the least, but Paris was determined not to be scared and not to make a fool out of herself. After all, no doubt Vince, Shane, and Stephanie would all be watching. She had spent countless hours with Jeff rehearsing; more time, in fact, that she had ever imagined spending with Jeff Hardy. Adam had missed every rehearsal, stating through Tammy, that he didn't need the practice. After all, it was Jeff who was Nikki Midnight's boyfriend and he was the one with which she would have the most interaction.

Adam hadn't spoken to Paris since they returned from San Antonio, which didn't really break her heart. Every time she entered a room, he found an excuse to abruptly leave. If he said anything it all, it was directed at Jeff or Miz or whoever else was there and he acted like Paris didn't exist. It wasn't as if Paris really wanted to talk to him, but the tension was getting almost too much for anyone in the house to bear. She thought that maybe she was going to have to be the one who made the first move, but as usual fate intervened.

Paris was folding her laundry and tucking it into drawers when she heard Adam downstairs talking to Jeff. She'd been up for a while, having been woke up by a phone call from none other than her good friend, Trish Stratus. She hoped that she hadn't sounded too grumpy to Trish, but she'd just had a late night at The Blue Bomb after the TV taping and although she'd only had one drink before switching to soda, she was still a little cranky, but more from just being tired, not hung over.

However, as soon as she had started chatting with Trish, her crankiness faded away. It was nice to catch up on all of the gossip and actually have it not be about her for a change. The main reason Trish was calling was to let her know that her old friend, Amanda Jones, had quit last night after RAW and flown back to Las Vegas this morning. Paris wondered why Amanda hadn't called her, but figured she'd hear from her sooner or later. She also couldn't help but wonder about Matt. Now that Amanda was gone, he was free to start pursuing Amy again if he so chose. That didn't bode well, especially with all of the tension between Amy and Dave, which according to Trish, had not gone away or gotten any better. Unfortunately, it sounded as if there was also some brewing hostility between Trish and Jericho, but when pressed, Trish had abruptly changed the subject and proceeded to grill Paris about Paul and the closeness she had sensed at the wedding. Paris confessed to Trish that there had been something, but it was all just another game for Paul. She didn't go into too much gory detail, but Trish got the picture; that once again, there was sex and heartbreak involved. Paris was purposely obtuse, not that she didn't trust Trish, but the less that got out about San Antonio, the less chance there was of Randy finding out. However, Paris assured Trish that she was at peace with Paul and considered the hatchet buried. Trish didn't need to know that oftentimes she fantasized about that hatchet being buried in strategic places on Paul's body…that was Paris' own cross to bear and her own demon to exorcise.

As much as Paris enjoyed gossiping with Trish, the conversation had almost hit the two hour mark and Paris had to end it, stating she still had to shower and run some errands before heading to Trax. She got the feeling that Trish wanted to say more, to get something off of her chest or maybe she just needed some sympathy over the situation with Jericho. Whatever it was, the Canadian beauty apparently wasn't quite ready to reveal it, so Paris figured Trish would tell her in her own time.

Before she had a chance to brood any more about her conversation with Trish, she was distracted by a knock on the door at the bottom of the stairs.

"Umm…Paris? Can I talk to you?" Adam's voice called through the heavy oak.

Paris was surprised, but recovered quickly.

"It's unlocked," she replied nonchalantly, continuing to fold her laundry as the lanky Canadian bounded up the stairs.

As usual, he was shirtless, which annoyed Paris to no end. She wasn't sure why…maybe it was his arrogance that irritated her, the fact that they had been in a relationship and that he had treated her so badly, but he still had the audacity to strut around the house half-clothed. She tried not to stare at him, unable to deny that even if she was disgusted by him, he was still an outrageously attractive man. But something else caught her attention, something other than his bare chest and rippling abdominal muscles. There was apprehension in his manner. He shifted nervously, his gray eyes averted, never meeting hers. Good, she thought meanly. You should be nervous…and ashamed of yourself to say the least.

"What do you want, Adam?" Paris asked crisply, breaking the awkward silence.

He inhaled sharply, seemingly trying to get his bearings and come up with something lucid and intelligent to say.

"Look, Paris..." he began. "I don't expect you to forgive me…in fact, I'm having trouble forgiving myself. I mean, I've never struck in a woman in my life…ask Jay or Jerky or anyone, even Amy would tell you. I never even hit Alannah…and believe me, she deserved it…on more than one occasion."

Paris tucked her last item of clothing into a dresser drawer and shut it quietly before turning to stare at him, her arms folded protectively across her chest.

"What I'm trying to say," Adam continued. "Is I'm sorry about what happened in the bar. I'm sorry I hit you."

He finally met her eyes, but the coldness in her violet orbs once again caused him to avert his gaze. Paris sniffed audibly and breathed deeply before speaking.

"Well, Adam…I guess I appreciate the effort. I've become reasonably good at deciphering when you're lying…and I believe you. Call me stupid, but I do believe you. But it doesn't mean I forgive you."

The Toronto native snorted, as if he had anticipated her lack of warmth.

"Of course not. That would be too much to ask, wouldn't it?" he retorted sarcastically.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Paris shot back.

"Nothing. It's just that I knew it would be like this."

"Like what?"

Adam chuckled, not necessarily a friendly chuckle. "I'm not allowed to make a mistake, I guess. I'm not allowed to screw up. Just like Randy Orton wasn't allowed to screw up. Only Miss Perfect Paris is allowed to make mistakes, right?"

Paris sighed. "Adam, if you're gonna be like that, just get out."

"No, I won't get out…not until you've heard me out."

He took a step towards her, but not threateningly. Still, Paris reacted and backed away, but then, tried to cover her anxiety by awkwardly straightening a knick knack on her dresser that wasn't really crooked. Once again, she crossed her arms over her chest as if trying to shield herself from him.

"The only reason I came up here was because Jeff and Miz begged me to," Adam explained, his tone caustic. "They can't stand the tension in the house and frankly, it's getting on my nerves, too."

He paused and raked a hand through his long, blond hair.

"Look, I'm sorry I hit you, but I won't apologize for the things I said. I think you're a spoiled, selfish, immature drama queen and no matter what you say or what he says, I'll never believe that your little side trip with Paul was innocent. Never! Maybe it was just to make peace with him, to get closure. You wanted to show him that he wasn't the boss of you, that he couldn't have the control anymore. But you wanna know what I really think?"

Paris rolled her eyes. "I have a feeling you're going to tell whether I want to know or not."

Adam stepped right up to her, invading her personal space. "I think you fucked his brains out and loved every minute of it. I don't know where you did it, I don't know how you did it, but I know you did it…and some day, Orton's gonna know you did it, too, and there won't be any forgiveness the second time around."

Adam smirked sardonically when he saw the shock on her face, but continued with his tirade nonetheless. "Oh, I know all about your little heart-wrenching phone call with The Legend Killer Monday night."

"How in the hell did you know that I talked to Randy?"

Adam put his hands up in mock concession. "Baby, I know everything when it comes to you. I have plenty of sources…Jeff, among others."

"Oh, so now you have Jeff spying on me?" Paris cried incredulously. She was completely outraged.

"I know you like to think that everyone's obsessed with you and your activities, but don't flatter yourself, Paris. Kind of hard on him, weren't you? Orton, I mean. Especially after your weekend with Paul."

"Fuck you!" Paris spat. "I told you…there was no 'weekend with Paul.' We talked…that was it! I…Jesus Christ, why am I explaining myself to you? I don't owe you an explanation. In fact, I don't owe you anything. I know we have to live together and work together and I'm willing to be professional, at least for Jeff and Miz's sakes…so they're not uncomfortable in their own home. But as far as you and I go, we have nothing left to say to each other, Adam. Like I said earlier, I appreciate the effort and the apology, but you have your mind made up about what happened in San Antonio and…"

"Am I wrong?" he interrupted rudely.

"And I have my mind made up about our relationship. You see, only I can control how I feel about someone…and if I continue to allow you to make me feel bad when I didn't do anything wrong, I only have myself to blame. Now, as much fun as this has been…if there isn't anything else, I'd like you to leave."

"Actually, there is something else…"

"What?" Paris snapped sharply as she rubbed her forehead, trying to dull the oncoming migraine.

"Since we won't be going to Tammy's Halloween party together, I need the Sensational Sherri costume I gave you."

Paris gaped at him in disbelief. A costume! This whole drawn-out drama was about a stupid costume! He wasn't sorry for his behavior, he wasn't having trouble forgiving himself…all he wanted all along was the costume.

Paris turned on her heel and retreated into her closet without a word. She yanked the Sensational Sherri outfit off the rack and stalking back into her bedroom, she threw it at the stunned Canadian wrestler.

"I'm sure it will look lovely on you," Paris sniped. "Although, I doubt you have the legs or the chest for it!"

Adam looked Paris up and down as she stood glaring at him with her hands on her hips. He smirked diabolically as he tossed the costume over his shoulder.

"Oh, I won't be wearing it," he drawled. "I'm still going as Shawn Michaels. My date will be wearing the Sherri costume…and she more than fills it out. Probably better than you could. But then again…it probably won't be on her long anyway."

Paris opened her mouth to retort, but she was interrupted by Miz calling at her to come downstairs. Brushing past Adam, she turned and paused on the top step, giving him a final contemptuous sneer.

"You…are disgusting, you know that?"

"Sticks and stones, love…"

"I expect you to be gone before I get back," she interrupted with an imperious toss of her blond hair. "Oh, and Adam…I guess it's probably a good thing that your 'date' can fill that costume out better than I can because I doubt there's anything even remotely associated with Shawn Michaels that you could fill out."

Adam snorted. "Knowing you, I'm sure you know exactly what Shawn Michaels could fill out."

"I'm sure that I don't," Paris retorted. "But I am friends with Steph and she talks and all…I'm just saying maybe you should rethink your costume. I mean maybe you should stay in your league and not try to imitate one of the big boys."

Adam chuckled sarcastically, bobbing his head from side to side in that annoying way that was reminiscent of his alter ego, Edge. "My league? Oh, funny. Real funny," he said. "I guess I could have gone as Triple H, but I couldn't find a fake nose that was big enough…"

Paris shrugged with mock innocence. "You know what they say about guys with big noses," she interjected, an innate sense to defend Paul creeping in.

"Or a strap-on cock that was microscopic enough to make me look anything like him."

Paris laughed, musically, sardonically. "All I can say, Adam, is…you wish."

"Yeah, and you'd know all about it," the Canadian mocked. "And what's more, everyone knows that you know all about it. Everyone knows that you're used merchandise…many times over."

Paris' violet eyes narrowed and she postured herself in a way as to let him know that she was done fucking around and playing his games.

"Like I said, I want you gone before I get back," she said, her voice icy. "Which in simple terms means get the fuck out of my room and don't come back. Understand or do you want me to write it in crayon for you?"

With that, she tossed her hair once again and descended down the stairs before disappearing around the corner.

Adam smirked at her retreating back and chuckled mockingly before turning to exit her loft. However, a noise caught his attention. Paris' cell phone was lying on her bed, ringing insistently. Picking it up, Adam smirked once again as he saw the name "Randy Orton" spelled out on the caller ID.

"Hello?" the Canadian greeted smoothly.

As expected, there was a long pause on the other end.

"Hello?" Adam repeated, smiling to himself.

"Who's this?" Randy questioned.

"It's Adam. Is that you, Randy?"

"Why are you answering Paris' phone?" the Legend Killer demanded, not bothering to identify himself.

"Oh…she's…busy. Can I take a message?"

"No, you can't. I'll call her later."

"I wouldn't bother…she has plans…with Jeff."

"Jeff?"

"Yeah, Jeff Hardy. Matt's brother, kind of a weirdo, crazy hair…"

"I know who he is," Randy replied impatiently.

"Of course you do," Adam laughed, relishing thoughts of what Randy's face must have looked like at that moment. "They've been together nearly every night this week… rehearsing for Paris' big night. You're coming, aren't you? For her debut? I know she'd love it if you were there, now that you guys are back together and all."

"It's really none of your business…"

"I gotta hand it to you, Randy…you're one hell of a forgiving guy. I don't know if I could be that big of a person, especially after what happened in San Antonio…if you know what I mean."

"If by 'what happened in San Antonio,' you mean about you hitting her…yeah, I know all about that."

Adam snorted. "That was just a big misunderstanding, man. I mean, don't get me wrong…she deserved it. Paris knows she screwed up…in fact, we were just talking about it right before you called. She was begging me to forgive her and then, Miz called her downstairs. Look, Randy, I know you think I'm probably being too hard on her, not forgiving her and everything…but Randy, man, you would have done the same thing. You probably would have done worse if you'd just found out."

Randy clenched his teeth and tightened his grip on his cell phone, his frustration and anger threatening to boil over.

"What exactly are you getting at, Copeland? What…you're saying Paris deserved it when you hit her?"

"No woman deserves to be hit, Orton. But you would have done the same thing if…"

"If what?" Randy snapped.

"If you'd just found out she'd been off somewhere fucking Paul…and it would have been Round 2 for you, right? Man, I was pissed…I gotta tell you, Randy, you gotta find some way to get him out of your lives…or you're never gonna have Paris all to yourself."

Randy swallowed hard, feeling like he had a mouthful of cotton. His head was spinning and he felt like he was going to throw up. The one image that it took everything he had to block out of his mind…Paris with Paul…and now, someone was telling him that it had happened again, making him relive the nightmare all over again. To make matters worse, he found himself believing it.

Adam smiled evilly, the dead silence on the other end speaking volumes. It almost scared him how much he was reveling in Orton's pain.

"Look, man…I'm sorry to be the one to tell you. Paris said you guys had talked things out…I just assumed that she told you everything…"

"Hey, don't sweat it, man," Randy replied coldly, his tone belying the agony he was feeling. He was damned if he was going to let Adam Copeland hear it. "Just tell her I called…I'll call her back later."

"I'll tell her," Adam lied. "You take it easy, OK?"

Adam chuckled softly as the line went unexpectedly dead. Casually, he tossed Paris' cell phone back onto her bed, acting is if nothing had just happened, as if he hadn't just ruined someone's life. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he nearly ran right into the OVW diva as she returned from whatever she had been doing. She glared at him over the top of a large box she was carrying, her eyes violet chips of ice. The Canadian merely stepped out of the way and stared smugly at her, not offering to help with her package, not explaining why he was just now leaving the loft. Paris rolled her eyes and started up the stairs, slamming the door behind her. She wanted to ask him what the hell he'd been doing up in her room the whole time she had been downstairs signing for her delivery, but she decided against it. She didn't want to start drama in front of Jeff and Miz, and not only was she excited to open the care package from her mom and dad, but she was anxious to give Randy a call before she went to Trax.

An hour later, Paris was dressed and ready to leave, wishing that she had more time to enjoy the cute clothes, the new CDs, and the gourmet goodies that her mom had sent. She could hear Adam and Jeff downstairs, but all she wanted to do was get out of the house without another confrontation with Adam. She also wasn't quite ready to confront Jeff about his eavesdropping on her call with Randy, especially with Adam there. Locking the door to her loft, she mumbled a goodbye to Jeff and ignored Adam before hurrying out the front door. As she pulled out of the driveway, she decided that now was a good time to call Randy, now that she was out of earshot of anyone who may be listening.

Flipping open her cell phone, she went to pull up Randy's number in her memory, but something caught her attention. She had a missed call from The Legend Killer himself, but no message in her voicemail. Shrugging it off, she called his number and waited for him to answer. Unfortunately, her call went straight to his voicemail. She smiled as she listened to his greeting.

"Hey, this is The Legend Killer, or as I'm known by my civilian identity, just Randy. I can't come to the phone right now, but you know what to do…leave a message, talk dirty to me, whatever you like. I'll call you back as soon as possible. Peace out."

"Hey, Legend Killer, this is Paris. I'd love to talk dirty to you, but I'd rather save that for in person…if you know what I mean. Call me back."

Unfortunately, because of all the drama, Paris was nearly 45 minutes late for class, which earned her a good, old-fashioned, Irish ass-chewing from Fit and double-time in the ring with none other than her least-favorite classmate, Dan Rodimer. As they were doing sit-ups and getting warmed up, Rodimer took the opportunity to engage her in conversation, lame as it was.

"Hey, Paris," he said, smirking at her as she held his ankles and he came up from a sit-up. "I was wondering if you might wanna go out with me sometime."

Paris smiled uncomfortably as he continued his exercises. "Sorry, but I'm seeing someone," she replied. Over Rodimer's shoulder, she saw John Hennigan walk in and drop down on the mat behind Rodimer to do some push-ups. As he came up, he grinned at her engagingly and rolled his eyes at the arrogant newbie's back. Paris smiled and tried to stop herself from laughing.

"Really? Cuz I heard you and Edge broke up."

"I'm not seeing Adam anymore…but I am seeing someone."

"Who?" he pressed.

"It's not really your business, is it, Dan?" She smiled sweetly, but completely fake. "I don't pry into your personal life, do I?"

"Hey, I'm an open book. Anything you want to know, just ask."

"Thanks, but maybe we should just concentrate on the ring."

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"No, it's just that…"

"Cuz, you know, I've heard the rumors, Paris, and if you'd rather talk about Triple H and Evolution, instead of making small talk, I'm fine with that."

"Dan, really…"

"I mean, what would you like me to ask you? Who has a bigger dick? Triple H or Randy Orton?"

Paris jumped to her feet and quick as a cat, so did Rodimer. He towered over her as he looked down at her, his mouth twisted into a sarcastic smirk, his eyes glittering maliciously. Paris was about to walk away, but Rodimer grabbed her arm and pulled her close enough to him to make her really uncomfortable.

"What's the matter, Paris? You don't like my line of questioning? You don't like to hear anything negative about your golden boys?" He chuckled. "Triple H, Orton, Batista…they're nothing. I'm the future of this business…everyone thinks so. Even Stephanie McMahon…I'm one of her favorites, you know. Maybe after I beat Triple H for the World title some day, I'll let you carry my robes…or maybe I'll let you blow me because that's all women like you in wrestling are good for anyway, isn't it?"

"Let go of me, you asshole!" Paris exclaimed, trying to yank her arm away. His grip tightened and she knew she was going to have bruises. There was no one around in the gym and she had lost sight of John some time ago.

"Maybe we should go start practicing right now," he whispered close to her ear as he began pulling her toward a nearby closet.

Paris was about to scream when she saw a large figure come up behind Rodimer and clap a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't think the lady likes you grabbing her like that," Sean O'Haire stated, his voice calm but menacing. "I suggest you let go of her…now."

Rodimer turned to face the larger man, but didn't let go of Paris' arm.

"Hey, Sean, me and my girl here were just having a little disagreement…it doesn't really concern you…"

"I'm not your girl!" Paris shouted, yanking her arm away and taking Sean's outstretched hand. The Director of Security for Bolin Services protectively placed the OVW diva behind his huge frame as he continued to stare Rodimer down with his piercing dark blue eyes. Just then, John Hennigan appeared back in the work out room and noticed the potential altercation going on. He also saw that Paris looked like she was crying and he immediately wanted to help. He knew that Tammy was strict about fighting at Trax. He didn't give a shit if Rodimer or O'Haire got in trouble, but he didn't want Paris to get caught in the middle.

"Hey, guys…everything OK here?" Hennigan interrupted, hoping his mere presence would defuse the situation somewhat, but neither man let on that they even noticed he was there. Only Paris glanced gratefully at him and smiled.

"You wanna do something, big man?" Rodimer taunted egotistically. Paris couldn't believe the balls on this guy. Here he was challenging Sean O'Haire, who was a superstar in wrestling, albeit he was having some bad luck as of late. But still, Rodimer had yet to wrestle his first match and he had the cheek to challenge O'Haire.

"Rodimer, you're new here," Hennigan stated. "You don't want to start off on the wrong foot, do you?" But Rodimer ignored him.

O'Haire glanced at John and Paris and then, back at Rodimer, smiling evilly. "Let's go," he said quietly. "Why are you hesitating? Is it because you know you're outmatched and outclassed? Is it? Yeah, that's what it is, isn't it, boy? Now, you're thinking about it…thinking I might be right. Aren't you? Thinking whether you should just take a shot at the title and get the ass-beating over with, right?"

"Knock it off!" Rodimer shouted. "You're just fucking with my head, like you always do with everyone. I'm not scared of you…"

"Then, let's go, boy. Hit me…just hit me…just once." O'Haire chuckled as he saw Rodimer's bravado crumble. "Oh, I get it…you're scared and what's more, you look like a douche bag in front of all of us, including a girl you wanted to nail…fat chance of that. But then, I'm not telling you anything you don't already know, am I?"

"Fuck you!" Rodimer exploded as he pushed O'Haire backward. John pushed Paris out of the way and tried to step between the two men even though he was smaller than both of them. But before a fist could fly, Fit appeared in the doorway and his angry voice echoed across the weight room.

"Oi, what the bloody hell is going on in here?" the stout Irishman shouted, making his way over to Paris and the three wrestlers.

"He started it," Rodimer accused, pointing at O'Haire.

"That's a lie," Paris shot back. "He was…he was accosting me and Sean put a stop to it and…"

"Quiet!" Fit bellowed. "I don't give a rat's arse who started it…I'm finishing it! O'Haire, ye need to get the hell outta me weight room when I have a class in here. Rodimer, ye look like ye need to go home and take a cold shower. Ocean, ye need to go down to the track and run a few laps to distract ye from causing trouble. And Hennigan…"

"Yes, sir?" John replied with trepidation. Fit was on a roll and even John knew not to mess with him.

Fit looked momentarily vexed as he tried to come up with a punishment suitable for John, whose only crime was that he was just standing there. "Go with her…anything to get ye outta me sight, ye pretty boy! And no funny business down there, eh?"

John nodded and grabbed Paris gently by the arm, pulling her out of the weight room before Fit got any more irritated. Paris looked back to see Sean quietly exiting through the other door and Rodimer stomping angrily off to the locker room. Sean glanced over his shoulder at her and gave her a wink, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Paris spent the next half hour running laps down on the track with John. It wasn't her most favorite thing to do, but they were jogging slowly enough that they didn't get winded and could have a conversation. Naturally, the discussion started off with what had happened with Rodimer.

"Don't worry about it," John told her after she had relayed what had gone down. "He's an asshole anyway. Thinks he's hot shit because Stephanie likes him."

Paris snorted. "Yeah, well, I bet he doesn't know that Vince is my godfather and I practically grew up with Stephanie. Not so hot shit now, is he?"

John laughed. "So, are you going to Tammy's party?"

"I don't know. I was going with Adam, but we broke up and everything, and now, I don't have a costume."

"I'm sure you could find something somewhere."

"Nothing cool at this late notice. Who are you going as?"

"Joey, Capotelli, Jeter, Lexie, Jilly, and I are going as DX. I get to be Triple H. Capotelli and Jeter are the New Age Outlaws, Joey's X-Pac, Jilly's Chyna, and Lexie's Stephanie."

Paris laughed loudly. "Oh, this oughta be good. I'll be sad to miss it."

"You should just go…who cares if you have a costume?" John said. "You could wear an evening gown and be Miss Elizabeth or you could wear gold and carry a cigar and be Marlena…you know, Goldust's wife, or something like that? It's not like you wouldn't look hot, whatever you wore."

Paris glanced at him as he looked down at the track and it was obvious he was blushing. She knew that John had a little bit of a crush on her…he always liked to flirt with her when Adam wasn't around. Maybe he was right…maybe she should just go to the party and have fun and forget about all of her drama.

"I'll think about it, OK?"

"Fine, but you better show up."

Paris smiled as she and John continued to run. She really did want to go to the party, but more than that, she wanted to talk to Randy. Ever since they had spoke Monday night, it was as if Paris couldn't wait to talk to him again, especially after what happened today with Adam and Rodimer. Maybe it was for the best if she just threw caution to the wind and got back together with The Legend Killer. Then, at least, she'd be taken and all of these assholes would stop bothering her.

Later that day, as Paris was driving home from Trax, she tried to call Randy again, but once again, got his voicemail. She left another brief message, but decided that she wasn't going to call again after that. She didn't want to come off as needy or desperate. For some reason, she just wanted to hear his voice.

She heard a mild ruckus as she entered to house and saw Jeff down on the floor, wrestling with Liger. When she walked in, Liger immediately neglected Jeff and ran over to Paris, sniffing her hand for a treat, which he knew that she always carried in a little bag in the pocket of her work-out jacket. After giving the dog a treat, Paris tentatively approached Jeff.

"Hey, Jeff, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," he replied, getting to his feet.

"Is Adam here?"

Jeff shook his head. "No, what's up?"

"Listen, I've been thinking about this all day and although I'm trying not to get mad…the more I think about it, the angrier I get…"

"You're not mad at me, are you?"

"Well, actually I am."

"Why?"

Paris sighed and took a deep breath. There was no way to say it nicely, so she decided to just let him have it and then, he could have the opportunity to defend himself.

"Who in the hell do you think you are eavesdropping on my private conversations?" she demanded.

Jeff looked stunned. "What?"

"You heard me."

"Look, Paris, I don't know what kind of a day you've had or if you're in a bad mood and need to take it out on me…but honestly, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about my phone call with Randy Monday night."

"What phone call with Randy?"

The look of bewilderment on Jeff's face spoke volumes, and at that moment, Paris felt like a total and complete asshole. She'd been had by Adam again.

"Um…uh…God, Jeff, I'm sorry. Really I am. God, I feel so stupid."

"Paris, what's going on?" Jeff questioned, looking even more confused.

"Adam and I had a…discussion earlier…"

"You mean a fight?"

"No, it wasn't a fight…it was…well, OK, it was an argument. Anyway, he was talking about a phone call that I had with Randy Monday night and he insinuated that you told him about it."

"You've gotta be shitting me, right?" Jeff asked incredulously.

"No, I'm not."

"You honestly thought I'd do something like that?"

"Look, I'm sorry, OK? I should have known better than to even say anything."

"I wasn't even here Monday night!"

"Jeff, calm down…I shouldn't have said anything, OK? I should have known Adam was just fucking with me again. I'm just sorry that your name got drug into it."

"Don't worry about it," Jeff told her with a wave of his hand. "As long as you know I don't roll like that."

"I know you don't. Again, I'm sorry…really, I am."

Jeff didn't respond, but simply waved his hand again, letting her know that it was over and forgotten.

"Are you going out tonight?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Probably not…I'm heading over to Tammy's so we can work on our costumes. You wanna go with?"

"I don't wanna be a third wheel. Besides, I don't know if I'm going to the party."

"Why not?"

"I don't have a costume anymore. Adam took my Sherri costume. Apparently, he has another date."

"Interesting," Jeff mused, stroking his chin.

"What's that twisted mind of yours up to, Jeff Hardy?" Paris demanded, pinching his arm playfully.

"No costume, eh? I'll have to see if the evil, but devilishly handsome and creative Dr. Hardy can conjure something up…muhaha!!!"

"Please, you're scaring me," Paris laughed as she unlocked her door and began heading upstairs. "Oh and Jeff…?"

"Yeah?"

"Text me or call me when you leave if Adam's home, OK?"

Jeff looked puzzled, but agreed nonetheless without asking why. He had learned not to ask too many questions.

Later that night, Paris was lying naked on her bed, messing with her cell phone, when she got a text from Jeff. He had just left to go to Tammy's and he said that Adam was downstairs watching TV and Miz was out at the bar. Paris had just got done calling Randy despite her earlier vow not to call him again. For the third time, her call had gone to voicemail and The Legend Killer had yet to call her back. Shutting off her phone, she jumped off the bed and pulled on some track shorts and sports bra. She jogged downstairs and opened her door, seeing Adam sprawled out on the couch, wearing nothing but track shorts himself. He glanced at her, his eyes flickering over her disinterestedly and then, he went back to his show. Paris went into the kitchen and got a soda before returning to the living room and confronting Adam. She stood right alongside the couch, so that her bare thighs were eye-level with him. She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat. God, he intimidated her and she hated him for it.

Adam raised his eyebrows and gave her an amused look. "Can I help you with something?" he asked sarcastically.

"I…I want to know how you knew about my conversation with Randy," Paris stated, her tone serious and unyielding.

"I told you…I know everything. When it comes to you, I have ways of finding things out."

Paris put her hands on her hips and glared down at him. "Yeah, and then, you insinuated that Jeff told you…"

Suddenly, she felt Adam's hand running along her thigh. "Are you wearing panties?" he interrupted, giving her a sardonic smirk.

"Don't touch me!" Paris exclaimed, slapping his hand away, to which he sat up on the couch and gave her another amused, yet condescending look.

"Sorry, I was distracted…what were you saying?"

"My phone call with Randy…you told me that Jeff told you…"

"I never said Jeff told me anything. I said that I had plenty of sources to give me information…Jeff being one of them."

"Yeah, and then, I confronted him and made a total ass out of myself…thank you very much!"

"Hey, you don't need my help to make you look like an ass," Adam declared, rising to his feet. "Now, let's get back to the conversation about your panties…" He slid his arm seductively around her waist.

Paris pushed him away forcefully. "There is no conversation about my panties! Or anything else about me, for that matter! I want you to leave me alone…stop talking about me, stop lying about me, stop involving your friends…just leave me alone, OK?"

Adam put his hands on his hips and gave her a mock look of confusion. "So, let me get this straight? Are we gonna fuck tonight? Because if we're not, I'd really like to get back to watching 'The Sopranos.'"

Paris snorted and shook her head. "You know what, Adam? To quote Tony Soprano, why don't you go fuck yourself?"

"But I'd rather fuck you," the toothy Canadian stated before grabbing Paris and kissing her boldly and sensually on the lips.

When he released her, Paris swayed slightly, but it only took her a moment to regain her bearings, after which she reared back and slapped him hard across the face. Adam lunged to grab her again, but had the misfortune of stubbing his toe on the coffee table and giving Paris a chance to dash through her doorway and lock it tightly behind her. At first, he pounded on the door, but then his frustration turned to laughter.

"Come on, Paris…open the door," Adam told her through the heavy oak. "You know you want it."

"Go to hell!" Paris retorted.

"Only if you go with me, babe," he chuckled as he heard her going upstairs. "Good night, Paris…maybe we'll play some other time, huh?"

In his fucking dreams, Paris thought as she shut off her light and crawled into bed. God, she hated this! She hated Adam and all of his stupid games. Maybe she could get Tammy to move her to another house. But that would be like saying Adam won and she wasn't about to let that happen. She had too much to look forward to…her debut, her reconciliation with Randy, the look on Paul's face when he saw that she was happy without him. Paul Levesque, she thought…that bastard! God, she missed him. No, she couldn't think about Paul…she had to think about Randy. He was going to make everything better. He had to. What in the hell was she going to do if he didn't?

**Again, sorry it's been so long. Please read and review…I know that there are still some faithful followers out there and I love hearing from you. Hugs, Evilution.**


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